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Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 01

By: Five_Eight



I would like to recognize to Dr. Mabeuse whose excellent novel 'Vampires of Prague' is published on the Literotica site in the novels & novellas section. The main reason I read V.O.P. was because I'd been writing vampire fiction for some time but never read any involving Nazis. This tale would not have been written without his permission to borrow that element, and try to make it my own. Thank you, doktor!

*******************

Heinrich Himmler asked, "What brings you to my temporary headquarters this evening, Baroness von Schitt?"

A slight smile formed under his wispy mustache as he spoke; his question had been respectful, but nervous. He regarded the woman seated before him and his smile went away while fumbling with a lighter on his desk to avoid her Nordic ice blue stare. 

"I want the assignment of Monika Fuchsmach."

The little German made no attempt to return her even gaze, settled for pushing the round spectacles up on his nose. "Who says there is an assignment concerning that slut of an actress?" 

He lighted a cigarette to hide his discomfort, blew blue smoke. Since Adolf Hitler had combined the Sicherheitspolizei and the Kriminalpolizei and appointed Himmler as Obergruppenfuhrer, he had known no fear. 

But he feared Ingrid von Schitt as much as he did his Fuhrer. 

He swallowed in hope that she hadn't noticed his surreptitious smile. From the back corner of the office two SS majors equally surreptitiously fingered the butts of the Lugers in their holsters.

The beautiful blonde in the chair ignored the big men behind her and studied the little one in front of her. Her mannish short hair bristled around the collar of her SS uniform. "I have my methods, as well you know." 

"Your methods?" asked Himmler skeptically. He took a deep drag and exhaled more smoke.

"Don't toy with me, you runt! I know what's going on and I want the mission," the blonde spat, her breasts outthrust as boldly as four-inch guns. "And be reminded my name is von Schmitt. Try not to mispronounce it again."

Himmler hazarded a glance in the direction of the two officers behind her and suppressed another smile. He should not have insulted her. He brushed at imaginary ash on the front of his black uniform to buy himself some time, placed the cigarette in an ashtray and watched it burn. Smoke curled toward the ceiling as the silence lengthened. He placed the cigarette between his thin lips, instead of inhaling he exhaled audibly, almost a sigh.

"And what mission would that be, baroness?"

"Do not try to feed me shit, Heinie." 

Himmler winced at the appellation; no one, especially a woman, addressed him in such a manner.

Without turning around the baroness said casually to the men seated in back of her, to whom she'd been introduced only minutes ago: "Do you think it lost on me, dear Wolfgang and Siegfried, that your hands hover so close to your pistols?"

The two majors answered as one: "Nein, Frau von Schmitt."

"Also be reminded I am a colonel and will be addressed thusly."

"Jawhol, mein colonel!"

One of the majors lit a cigarette himself to demonstrate his hand was nowhere near a firearm; the other reached up to stroke his cleft chin. Himmler had warned them before she entered the room about her uncanny ability to see behind her back.

"As I said I have my methods, I want to handle that bitch."

The male Nazi officers understood the subtext of her comment. The majors exchanged wordless meaningful looks at Himmler, who coughed to buy another fragment of time.

Finally he ventured, "Have you spoken with the Fuhrer?"

"If you must know I've been talking to Leni Riefenstahl."

"Ah ha," chuckled Himmler, "the famous filmmaker."

"Precisely, you weasel." She rode roughshod on everyone.

Himmler stabbed out the cigarette and stood up, his outraged glare slightly over the baroness' right shoulder. "May I remind you, Frau, despite the fact that our Fuhrer bestowed the honorary commission of colonel upon you I am the Obergruppenfuhrer and, as such, insist you maintain military courtesy to the utmost."

Ingrid von Schmitt rose leisurely to her feet and clicked the heels of her jackboots together. She thrust a hand into the air in a bored salute. Sarcasm oozed from her words: "Sieg Heil! Forgive my outburst, Herr Himmler, but Leni and I are close friends."

When Himmler remained unspeaking she said with emphasis, "I repeat, I want Monika Fuchsmach. I vow to the Fatherland I will crush that whore." She paused and smiled, revealing unusually long canine teeth.

"But, of course, and I appreciate your concern in matters of the Reich," Himmler responded tartly. "Majors Koch and Trommler and myself however are discussing issues of far greater importance." A lie, they'd been talking about the extraordinary bosom of the Bavarian barmaid downstairs. "What exactly is your estimation of the Fuchsmach problem as it pertains to the Fatherland?"

"First and foremost the young slut has declined the lead role in Leni Riefenstahl's new film."

"And what makes that a grievous problem?" Himmler snorted. "Especially after Fraulein Riesenstahl's disgusting display in Konskie two weeks ago?" He knew what the public did not; she had interfered with Nazi soldiers executing several Polish civilians. He had viewed a photograph showing her face etched with horror as the rifles fired again and again.

The blonde colonel seemed to take umbrage. "I have spoken to Fraulein Riefenstahl since she traveled to the Baltic to apologize to the Fuhrer." Himmler snorted again, aware of the incident. In the back of his mind he questioned both women's politics; that was his job. Indeed Riefenstahl had already wormed her way back into Hitler's good graces. "The Fraulein may be his favorite director but I doubt he is much concerned with the roles a second rate actress chooses for herself."

"Monika Fuchsmach's refusal to appear in the new Riefenstahl picture is a veiled insult to Hitler personally."

"Rest assured our Fuhrer is more occupied with---" Himmler stopped himself, he'd almost divulged the upcoming annexation of Czechoslovakia, "---the Munich Agreement." Two days ago Hitler had signed that treaty which was why Himmler was currently in his hometown of Munich. That and, of course, the Oktoberfest, which would conclude Sunday.

To his dismay baroness von Schitt seemed undeterred. She declared, "Do you know Monika Fuchsmach is sharing a bed with Tobias Rothschild? Even though he is a rich and powerful banker in Berlin he is Juden and high on Adolf's list of undesirables."

Himmler allowed himself another small smile. "You have my word, baroness, that Tobias is not long for Berlin, and probably this world. That is a confidence that will not leave this room."

She surveyed the quaint hotel suite serving as an ad hoc office for Himmler. "Herr Rothschild is not the only man that outspoken piece of fluff is screwing. You've heard of Odell Yell?"

The name got the attention of all three men in the room.

"The athlete from the British team? Didn't he win the bronze medal for the decathlon in the 1936 Olympics in Berlin?" asked Koch.

Trommler noted, "He is from Africa, is he not?"

Ingrid von Schitt smiled hugely, "A native south African. Your majors are both right, Herr Himmler."

A silence as large as an observation zeppelin hung in the suite. After a few moments the men began muttering amongst themselves, nothing of consequence.

The woman said, "That makes a few too many embarrassments piling up against the Reich. Steps must be taken, and taken soon! Again, I request the assignment, Herr Himmler."

His forehead wrinkled above his round spectacles, the cigarette expired in the ashtray. Like filmmaker Riefenstahl he suspected baroness von Schitt's true motives, but he had a very good idea. After a moment he said, "My concern would be you cannot operate during, uh, daylight hours."

"That is why I have lieutenants, I know how to delegate. Not unlike yourself. Ja?"

Himmler touched a delicate finger to a sheet of valuable stamps atop his desk, took his time lighting another cigarette.

The baroness added, "According to my spies the scandalous slut arrived in Munich with Odell Yell early this evening on the Orient Express. They hired a car to take them to the Oktoberfest."

"Monika Fuchsmach's here, in Munich, right now?"

Von Schitt nodded, "Probably hoisting a stein of lager in a beer tent as we speak, spreading her legs for any enemy of the state wearing trousers." The baroness' own jodhpurs were impeccable.

Himmler pursed his lips, did some more thinking. "My orders come only from the Fuhrer, as you are doubtless aware. I am in charge here and will handle this affair as I see fit."

Major Koch got out of his chair to say, "Siegfried and I will gladly volunteer to lay this problem to rest."

"With a minimum of public outcry," Trommler added.

Himmler noticed both men wore wry smiles, how careless of them.

Frau von Schitt deigned to not turn around and face them. She said to Himmler, "Well, well, the news a pretty little actress is in town has certainly perked up the two majors. They are dull and completely miss the point, I'm afraid. Public outcry is what is necessary for this particular intrigue."

Himmler shifted his gaze from the smirking men to the female colonel. "Please make your point, baroness." 

"Monika Fuchsmach needs to be publicly humiliated. And what better opportunity exists than the Oktoberfest, taking place right now across the street from this hotel?"

Koch's eyes gleamed with transparent thought, "A famous actress raped and murdered would forever prevent her climbing back on her high horse."

Himmler wanted to yawn. "I have to agree." Again he placed the tip of a finger to the page of stamps.

The baroness twisted a cigarette into a long ebony holder while musing, "Rape is a wonderful idea, but simply killing her would not do, her agony must be prolonged."

Koch said, "With all due respect, colonel, Major Trommler and I have the proper equipment with which to besmirch the girl. Please allow me to suggest, Colonel von Schmitt, that you oversee the prolonging of the agony."

"And the humiliation," Trommler said, the soul of cooperation.

Himmler refrained from rolling his eyes at their carelessness. He admitted to himself the colonel was correct, both were dull men, with imaginations extending no further than the ends of their pricks.

The woman in uniform frowned as the majors nodded in tacit agreement. She leaned forward in her chair and appropriated the lighter on Himmler's desk. After getting her cigarette going she blew a plume of smoke at him and sneered, "Those who were uninterested in scandals in the Reich a few minutes ago have made an abrupt about face." 

Koch reiterated, "But Siegfried and I are better equipped for this sort of undertaking."

The colonel raised her voice in protest, "I brought the mission to your attention in the first place, Herr Himmler, my intention was to accomplish it, not share it."

He saw the baroness' exposed canines again. His face got as red as the flag on the wall behind him and he smashed a fist down hard enough to make the objects on the desktop jump: the phone, the cigarettes and lighter, the stamps. "All of you, enough, I say!" 

He fixed a hard look at the majors that meant they would be wise to shut up. He continued to carefully avoid the eyes of the baroness, having no desire to be ensorcelled by the leader of the Vampire Korps of the SS, appointed by Hitler. Himmler had urged the Fuhrer long ago not to dabble with the occult as a weapon of war. And where had it landed him? With a legion of vampires in his own Gestapo, each one more dangerous than a roomful of brown shirts. He commanded them on paper only; von Schitt and her bloodsucking goons did exactly what they pleased when they pleased. Hitler had shunned the Korps since its formation. "You deal with them, Heinrich," Hitler had said. "I put you in charge of the SS over Hermann Goring, are you unfit to lead?"

The memory of the Fuhrer's words still galled Himmler.

He composed himself and set his bitterness aside. For the first time since the baroness appeared unannounced at the door of his suite tonight a large and undeniable smile hiked up his mustache. He'd hatched a plan while his officers bickered like children. Majors Trommler and Koch wanted to make light of the volatile Colonel von Schitt. Together they wanted the chance to plunder the luscious Monika Fuchsmach as much as the depraved baroness. So be it!

"Achtung!" he cried and everybody leapt to attention with a shuffle of boots. He walked behind them as he spoke: "Baroness, so you know, Trommler and Koch number among my most ruthless and dangerous troops, like yourself. Upon review of your fears in regard to the treacherous Fraulein Fuchsmach I have made the decision that you shall direct these two capable young men in this enterprise to erase this heinous blemish from the face of Germany. These two are as well endowed as you are vicious and calculating. Whatever plan you concoct will have my blessing. We all know about the brilliant Night of the Long Knives. Tonight will go down in history as the Night of the Long Dicks. Colonel, in addition to whatever indignities you personally deem to inflict upon Monika Fuchsmach I want you to ascertain that she will be violated by our stout majors here. Are there any questions?"

There were none.

"That woman's life and death is at your discretion, colonel, and if your proposed target does not survive I want it kept a secret. If she endures the degradation and humility I want photographs of the results on the front pages of every newspaper in Europe. Do I make myself understood?" 

Three voices answered in unison: "Jawhol, Obergruppenfuhrer."

He dismissed them amid a chorus of danke schoens. 

With any luck the whole self-serving manipulative bunch would annihilate themselves, go down in flames and Himmler could have some peace. And be alone with his stamps.

 **********

Ingrid von Schitt swore under her breath as she strode through the lobby. 

That damned Himmler had outgeneraled her, saddling her with two of his hatchet men like lesions on a very sore arse. No love lost between them and her; Koch and Trommler would monitor her, report her every move to the Obergruppenfuhrer. Why had she not just acted first instead of seeking Himmler's sanction? Better to ask forgiveness than permission. Inside the festival grounds she could lose them with ease but the off chance they'd crop up at the most inopportune time grated on her nerves. The Oktoberfest wasn't a street carnival, it sprawled for several blocks south of St. Paul's Church.

Across the street the bell tower loomed, the wind causing one of the bells to ring. Its musical note was absorbed by the noise of revelers, their singing and shouting, the accordion music and the mechanical racket of the Ferris wheel. Damn and double damn!

She didn't suffer fools lightly and the two objects of her scorn paused to light cigarettes on the hotel steps. The three Gestapo officers surveyed the scene outside. The majors were laughing at some joke she had not heard. She could've listened, overheard their conversation had she cared to and, for that matter, chucked them like javelins five meters away. That would have served no useful purpose other than serving those oafs right. She needed to distance herself from them as soon as feasible.

"Enough buffoonery, majors," she snarled. "Since I have no desire to breathe the same as air as you two we're going to split up. This is the battle plan."

Trommler interjected before she got another word out: "You're not going to pull rank on us, are you?"

The baroness' left hand shot forward, clutched the front of his uniform and lifted the major into the air like a dumbbell, jackboots dangling. His cigarette fell from his mouth onto the street, its ashes whipped away in the strong breeze. She resisted shaking him like a pom pom. 

"Go ahead, Wolfgang," she warned Major Koch without looking in his direction, "draw your Luger. It would give me great joy to insert the barrel into your rump." Her eyes never left Trommlers' while she uttered her threat. "And by the way, Siegfried, the same goes for you."

He retorted, "This is conduct unbecoming of an officer."

"Colonel," entreated Koch, "there are people watching. We're on a mission! Is it prudent to draw attention to ourselves so early in the game?"

She released Trommler suddenly and he hit the cobblestones hard, staggering to maintain his balance. To soothe his wounded dignity he barked at a quartet of vacationers, "Curiosity will land civilians in a cell, we are Schutzstaffel."

"Yes, you idiots had best be on your way," growled Major Koch.

Frau von Schitt laughed an ugly laugh as the crowd dispersed. Her breasts rose and fell, she slapped the cigarette from Koch's mouth. "Listen up," she said in a deadly whisper, "Himmler wants photographs of this debauchery so one of you round up a camera tout suite. The other one get me the longest Mercedes limousine available from the motor pool."

The majors had lost their sense of humor, at once all business.

Trommler came to attention, said respectfully, "Where shall we rendezvous?"

The baroness drew back her cuff and consulted her watch. "It's 2030 hours, give or take." Her eyes raked the fairgrounds, she gnawed her lip in thought, tapped the toe of a boot for a moment on the sidewalk. "Trommler, meet me in half an hour outside the Schottenhammel tent. Koch, be at the Hippodrom in forty five minutes."

"I'll secure the vehicle, colonel, where do you want it parked?" asked Koch.

"Good thinking, major. Put it in the south end where they park the busses. Remove any swastika flags or Nazi paraphernalia, I don't want any punctured tires when we're ready to move. In fact, forget the Hippodrom for now and stay with the car."

The majors gave subdued salutes and prepared to tend to their assignments when the baroness stopped them. She motioned them into an alley next to the hotel. When assured they were alone she ordered them to drop their trousers. The men exchanged glances, then obeyed without a word.

The colonel did not have to explain her last order. "Himmler was correct, you two men would put a donkey to shame. Fraulein Monika is going to remember this night for the rest of her short life. Cover yourselves, dismissed." She left them in the alleyway headed for the Wies'n, the enormous meadow where the festivities took place each year in Munich. The soles of her boots drummed on the street as the majors zipped up their jodhpurs.

Minutes later she strolled through the throngs of people. They sang and danced to musicians busking in the walkways, staggered about slopping ale from their steins. Neverending noise swarmed from everywhere: the creak of carousels and swings in the fun-fair, music, the cries of children and adults alike, hawkers bellowing their goods. The smell of fish, roasted chicken on spits, soups, malt beer, pig knuckles, pretzels, coleslaw, veal sausages, potato dumplings and red cabbage all mingled with the scent and sweat of humanity. Many of the women dressed in dirndls and the men wore festive hats, suspenders and lederhosen. Others chose to attend the fest clad in silk suits and evening gowns. Tides of pedestrians parted for her, possibly because of the black SS uniform. 

She had a prearranged destination: the Armbrustschutzen beer tent where the crossbow competition had been held for over four decades. To get there the baroness cut through the scattered tables in a beergarden into the mob in the central thoroughfare. A brass band struck up a tune and Colonel von Schitt knew she was close. Stalls had given way to beer tents over the years and now those gave way to actual structures, some playing host to several thousand drinkers. The half dozen major breweries sponsoring the event had constructed the buildings. Tents still abounded, that tradition likely would never change, small tents clustered between enormous pavilions. 


Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 01



The Armbrustschutzen beer tent was actually a large iron and timber building but its surrounding patios were beneath awnings and gaily colored stretched tarpaulins. The crossbow competition took place inside. Vampires knew better than to get too close to weapons capable of driving an arrow through the heart, the effect would be tantamount to a wooden stake, but the colonel did not plan to enter the building. At last she found three blonde women in brown-shirted uniforms seated around a small table on a patio. The brass band on a nearby stage played a version of a popular new song entitled 'Das Fraulein Gerda.' 

A trio of her goon girls from the Vampire Korps, Dagmar, Erika and Veronika, awaited her. Dagmar saw the baroness approaching first and knocked her chair over standing up. She marched quickly toward her, long legs striding, golden tresses trailing like a cape, breasts bouncing with every step. Behind her the colonel could see the other two beauties leaving their seats as well. Before the women reached her the baroness knew something was wrong.

They all talked at once and she had to shush them.

"Where is Astrid?" she wanted to know.

"There's been a terrible accident," wailed Dagmar.

"Astrid is dead, colonel," Veronika said, anger in her voice.

A string of profanity worthy of a sailor burst from the colonel's lips. Astrid had been her second in command as well as first among her female lovers. "What the hell happened? What kind of accident?"

All the goon girls tried speaking at once again and von Schitt hissed, "Quiet! Erika, you speak."

"An arrow accidentally discharged from a crossbow one of the competitors was carrying into the Armbrustschutzen. It struck Astrid in the heart, she dropped dead right in front of us, it was horrible. An ambulance left with her body ten minutes ago."

"And where is this clumsy crossbowman? I will tear his gonads off!"

Erika's eyes shone with unshed tears. "A policeman escorted him away."

Von Schitt turned to Dagmar and Veronika. "Police? Or SS?"

Dagmar said, "Not police, he told us he was Gestapo when we talked to him."

"Goddamn it, girls, you are SS too."

"He told us he was an Inspekteur with the Sicherheitspolizei and ordered us not to interfere. He said for us to wait here at the scene, that he would send the Bavarian police."

"And where are they? A fatal accident occurred, they should be here by now, a person died. Did you not say the ambulance left ten minutes ago?"

Erika assured her those were the facts.

The more she heard the more the colonel's inflamed suspicions grew. "All of you are aware that the Sicherheitspolizei has been merged with the Kriminalpolzei and is now the Schutzstaffel, the SS. In other words, the Gestapo! To which you belong! Didn't you offer to assist this Inspekteur with the investigation? All of you are wearing your goddamned uniforms!"

None of the goon girls uttered a word.

"Did the Inspekteur provide you with his name?"

Erika yelped, "He said his name was Inspekteur Kuntz."

"Inspekteur Kuntz, you say?" The baroness laughed aloud but not with humor. She radiated a mood most foul when she said, "Inspekteur Kuntz? Inspekteur Kuntz? None of you has ever heard the old joke: inspect her cunt?"

The women eyed one another in an embarrassed silence. 

"How was this official dressed? Or did you even take the trouble to look?" she asked, caustic, sarcastic.

Dagmar blurted, "Black fedora, black trenchcoat."

"Did he show any identification?"

Dagmar reported he'd flashed a big gold badge.

"I can't believe at least one of you didn't make the attempt to follow along and try to gather more information." 

Veronika said, "I did, colonel, but that's when he flashed a silver .45 in our faces."

Von Schitt raised her voice, a notch shy of hysteria. "Why didn't you follow him anyway? All three of you can shift into bat form and fly!"

"The Inspekteur warned us his .45 shot silver bullets and he'd shoot us down like dogs if we interfered, Vampire Korps or not."

"You'd best not say Inspekteur to me one more fucking time. If you must say anything say imposter, because that's what he is." The colonel wrestled with her composure. Were these girls as lackadaisical as the majors in carrying out their duties? "I leave you alone for less than an hour and this shit happens. For the love of God!" A thought suddenly occurred to her: "And where is the Fuchsmach tramp?"

All three bowed their blonde heads in shame. Finally Erika admitted, "We lost her in the confusion."

All composure evaporated and the baroness cursed again, more fervently than before. When her tirade wound down she jabbed an angry finger at them while issuing orders. "Comb the Wies'n and find her, you bitches. Spread out and find her or I'll skin each one of you alive! All of you know where the Lowenbrau beer tent is, rendezvous under the Lion's Head sign outside every half hour. If I'm not there, continue searching. If you locate Fraulein Monika that is also where you shall bring her. Understand?" 

"Jawhol, mein colonel!" the goon girls sang out.

They reminded her of Himmler's majors. "Spoken like true Aryans," she spat on the ground in disgust as they departed. She stood with her hands on her hips, no time now to grieve for the departed Astrid. While pondering her next move she screwed a cigarette into her holder and demanded a light from a passerby smoking a cigar. Originally the baroness intended to ditch the majors by sending them on petty errands then rejoin her goon girls. They had tailed Monika Fuchsmach from the train station to the Oktoberfest. The memory of the majors with their trousers down returned. They might just be useful after all. 

She checked her watch and without further ado headed for the Schottenhammel beer tent to meet with Trommler. When she first sighted him he stood chatting up a couple of university students who filled their blouses almost to the bursting point. In one hand he held an ostentatious camera with a big flash attachment, a leather bag hung from his shoulder. The fool appeared to be trying to convince them to bare their chests so he could take their picture. One of the girls had already begun to unbutton her shirt.

The colonel charged forward, shoved the girl aside. A lovely big pink breast popped into view when she stumbled. The student started to harangue her until she noticed her uniform. "Get out of here now, both of you, or I'll have you detained," she threatened. The students obeyed without a word, breaking into a run, the one girl attempting to tuck away her exposed breast as she ran. The baroness turned her ire on Trommler. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, pig dog?"

"They wanted their pictures taken," the major explained lamely.

"I'll jam that camera in your ear if you don't start behaving like a soldier. How old are you, major?"

"Twenty six, colonel."

"Try to act like it then," she advised menacingly. How had this boy received an officer's commission? If she had her riding crop with her she'd put a stripe across his face! "The film for that camera is reserved for our target, moron."

The major bit his tongue to keep from saying something he'd later regret, his lips a tight line.

"We have work to do, major. You do know what this Monika Fuchsmach looks like, don't you?"

"Yes, colonel, I've seen all her films."

"I don't give a damn! Have you seen her here tonight while you looned through the crowd?"

"No, colonel, I have not. And I would have noticed."

"That goes without saying. Let's go find your friend. And keep a sharp eye out for the girl. Get going!"

The walk to the south end of the festival took almost fifteen minutes. Major Koch had a foot propped on the running board of a Mercedes touring car, smoking a cigarette. At least he wasn't trying to get in some Fraulein's panties. He flicked the cigarette from him and sprung to attention when he spotted the baroness.

"At ease, Koch," she said, not bothering to return his salute. 

Peering into the car she saw it had two bench seats facing one another in back. "This is perfect, I couldn't have asked for more. Trommler, stow the camera and the bag in the car and make sure you lock it when you're done."

After he put the camera gear in the front seat the vampire colonel ordered Koch and him to split up and start searching the grounds. In an hour they would meet back at the car. Before they got out of earshot she heard them lamenting the fact the horse races were not being held this year. She shook her head before making her way to the Lowenbrau beer tent.

When she got to the Lion's Head sign she did not see any of her girls. Before she could check the time on her watch a commotion broke out a hundred meters away. Idle curiosity prompted her in that direction. A dense circle of people had gathered although she couldn't see what precipitated the uproar. "Doktor, doktor," someone shouted, causing her to panic. Fear welled in her as she hurled men and women out of the way with vampiric superhuman strength. 

When she broke through the circle she cried out.

Veronika lay on her back unmoving on the grass. A small red circular stain darkened her brown shirt; vampires do not bleed much. A crossbow quarrel jutted from her left breast. Von Schitt pushed two burly men aside, knelt down and felt for a pulse in her neck. Dead, dead as Astrid. The baroness jumped back on her feet, her ice blue eyes darting left and right. Nobody held any archery equipment. 

"Did anyone see who shot her?" she yelled.

Murmurs from the crowd told her nothing, she could not expect much cooperation. Bavarians cared little for Nazis, Hitler had just signed the Munich Agreement. Judging from where Veronkia fell the arrow must have come from the north. The baroness started to run and the mob parted to let her through. She hustled northward, swiveling her head while she ran. Plenty of people milled around with ornate steins in hand. Colonel von Schitt clawed through the unassuming masses.

An ambulance whooped in the distance. 

People, people everywhere but not a single archer could she find.

 **********

A big smile creased Odell Yell's face as he watched the frantic female SS officer seeking help from the crowd before storming up the thoroughfare. Too bad he hadn't been able to send an arrow into her heart as well, since she wore a black uniform she must be the leader. When he'd seen the brown-shirted goon girl nosing around the Augustiner tent a few minutes earlier he knew luck rode on his shoulder that evening. Standing next to him Ryan Hex had the crossbow concealed under his long black trenchcoat.

Hex whispered, "A great shot, I commend your markmanship, Odell. The Prime Minister will be delighted when he hears the news. You have dealt the Vampire Korps a demoralizing blow tonight." He wanted to say too bad Yell couldn't have killed Ingrid von Schitt instead but it would be boorish to dilute his friend's triumph. Had his intelligence sources known she was in Munich however she would have been the priority target and they would not have bothered with eliminating mere brown shirts. Hex had spied four goon girls at the train station at dusk when Yell and Monika arrived, but von Schitt had not been among them. 

"Thank you, Mr. Hex," Yell said, still smiling. "Was the woman in the black SS get-up that Colonel Schitt lady I keep hearing so much about?"

"Properly it's von Schmitt, affectionately known as von Schitt," Hex said, "That's her all right. She's been eluding me for three years. If and when I can put a stake through her heart the whole Vampire Korps will hopefully come down like a house of cards."

"Too bad you can't make good time lugging that contraption under your coat or we could've gone after her. But I suggest we tag along behind her anyway, we may be able to get the drop on her."

"Unfortunately we need to get rid of the bow first, we're not going to be able to use it again tonight. The Oktoberfest will be crawling with stormtroopers once the colonel gets to a telephone."

"You want me to put it back in the car?"

"Too incriminating, let's find a dustbin."

Hex started walking north on the thoroughfare and the tall black man fell into step beside him. He stayed to Hex's left and edged slightly ahead of him to obscure the fact Hex carried a crossbow in his trenchcoat. He had his left hand in his coat pocket gripping the end of the bow through the cloth, the butt of the weapon tucked under his left armpit. It wasn't too awkward transporting it that way; the only awkwardness would come from getting caught with it in his possession. Although Odell Yell had done the shooting, not Hex, the crossbow was a murder weapon.

Yell thought the first kill had been slick, the getaway slicker. Hex had impersonated a policeman arresting the man whose bow had accidentally launched an arrow. The three brown shirts had hassled them but the gold badge and silver pistol kept them off guard long enough for Hex to disappear into the crowd.

"That colonel is in plain sight up ahead and no one's paid us any mind, Mr. Hex. I bet you fifty pounds I could go for three out of three."

"Forget it, Odell. I'd rather have her ass alive than your ass dead. You're too valuable."

"Luck's smiling on me tonight. I know how bad you want to take her down. I know I can get away with it."

"Those are noble and brave thoughts," Hex spoke from the corner of his mouth, "but put them aside for now."

Yell snapped his fingers in disappointment. "If you say so. Just for now."

"I know you hate the Vampire Korps for killing your brother but I promise you plenty more opportunities to pay them back. If you get arrested you'll never kill another Nazi because the SS would put a bullet between your eyes in the first dark alley they could dump your corpse in. You'd be lucky to get so far as a jail cell."

"You sure of that? I won a medal in the 1936 Olympics."

Hex smiled up at him. "Fame won't protect you from the Nazis, fortune either. Monika hasn't been able to reach Tobias on the telephone all week and he may not be famous, but he's filthy rich."

"That's what Miss Monika told me on the train. She's worried."

"So am I, Odell, this isn't a game of win or lose, it's live or die. There's a dustbin behind that pavilion. Cover me."

"I'm watching out for you," Yell said, still thinking about the clever way he'd hidden the crossbow earlier. He'd retrieved it when he spied another one of the brown shirts walking around alone. A year ago he never thought he'd kill anybody, let alone a woman. But now that made no difference, the two brown shirts he'd shot had been Nazis as well as vampires. Those factors changed the rules, not to mention he fought in the war against the Nazification of Europe. Hex had planned the first hit tonight, the second had been divine inspiration on Yell's part. He'd located such a sweet section of empty ground between two small tents in deep shadows so dark a white elephant would've been invisible there.

Hex stuffed the crossbow in a steel drum and heaped trash on top of it.

Yell asked him, "You're not still mad at me for taking that second shot, are you?"

Hex forced a grin, "Don't mistake concern for anger. You got away with it however you're not taking any more chances tonight. Are we clear?"

Yell affected his best vernacular: "Yassuh, mastah baws man." 

Hex said dryly, "Nice accent, but it doesn't become you." He knew Yell had done four years at Cambridge. He brushed past him determined to catch up with Colonel von Schitt. 

Yell clucked his tongue and said, "I don't see her anymore, she made a left up ahead while you trashed my trusty crossbow."

"My condolences, Robin Hood. Let's get back to the Hippodrom and get Monika out of here." 

"Before she gets into any trouble?" Yell joked.

"Before she gets into any trouble," Hex echoed. Inwardly he cursed the crowd, he might not get another chance at the baroness tonight.

"You sure you're not mad?"

"If you don't get me killed, Monika will."

"She is a handful, isn't she? She likes you, you know?"

"I wouldn't know," Hex commented, "The newspapers say she's your girlfriend."

"Well, she and I are celebrities and that horseshit in the press is what her manager refers to as a publicity stunt."

"Her manager needs his head examined. What am I saying? I need my head examined," Hex sighed, "for agreeing to let you kill that second vampire. Your face is too well known, especially here in Munich."

"But like you said, we got away with it. Nobody saw me shoot either one, I passed the bow off to Scotty and you led him out like he'd done it. That was slick, man. Scotty told me you were smart, and you are, to cook up a scheme like that."

"Why are you all of a sudden kissing my ass?"

Yell laughed loud enough that passersby glanced at him. He stopped immediately. "That wasn't too smart, was it?"

"Scotty's the smart one, he's drinking beer with Monika in the Hippodrom."

"No, Mr. Hex, you're the smart one."

"Right," Hex said sarcastically, "I went to Cambridge."

 ********** 

Majors Trommler and Koch threaded through the masses.

"I'm telling you," Trommler complained, "we'd best follow von Schitt's orders. And she ordered us to split up. We're supposed to meet her in less than an hour."

"And I'm telling you, Siegfried, when we pull this off we'll be colonels ourselves. I've been to a million Oktoberfests. I know what I'm talking about."

Trommler frowned, "Don't overlook I was at your twenty-fifth birthday party only a month ago and to the best of my knowledge the Oktoberfest is only held once a year."

"All right, maybe it hasn't been a million but I've been to a lot of Oktoberfests. My parents brought me here since I was a kid in short pants. As a grown man I've been to---" he shrugged, "---four or five at least. How many times have you been here?"

Trommler tallied in his head, "This will make the third."

"Then there you are, I'm the expert, you're almost a virgin. I repeat I know what I'm talking about."

"What makes you so sure Fraulein Monika will be inside the Hippodrom?"

"Trust me, it's the place where rich and well known folks gather when they come to Oktoberfest. So where else could a famous actress possibly be?"

"I've been in the Hippodrom before, there'll be over a thousand people inside. How will we ever find her?"

"She'll be with that Olympics fellow, how can we miss her? Would I steer you wrong?"

Trommler hung his head. "That von Schitt bitch didn't lift you off the ground with one hand either."

"But she said she'd stick my Luger up my ass, and she knocked my cigarette out of my mouth."

"She also said she'd stick the camera in my ear."

"I didn't hear her say that," Koch said, distracted by a gaggle of girls watching them from a table outside the Hofbrau tent. He smiled and touched a finger the bill of his peaked cap before reluctantly moving on.

"You were busy getting the car, Wolfgang. But she sure as shit said it. I'm nervous, real nervous about this."

"Don't be," Koch said with the omnipotent wisdom of youth. "We'll go into the Hippodrom and if she's not there, I promise we'll split up, just like she ordered. After one beer. Who's to know?"

"Von Schitt will know. That bitch has eyes in the back of her head, just like Herr Himmler told us."

"You want to pass up the chance to meet Monika Fuchsmach? Don't forget Colonel von Schitt personally inspected our manhood. Don't forget what that means."

"What?"

"Himmler told her to let us violate Monika. And von Schitt said as much in the alley. Has it slipped your mind?"

"And suddenly you believe every word that spills out of her big mouth."

Koch said soberly, "Think about screwing Monika Fuchsmach. Think about making colonel, your mother will be so proud."




Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 01



"You're sure?"

"If I am wrong, what have we lost?"

Trommler's expression said it all. Not only was he getting buffeted by the festival celebrants, he felt buffeted between the wishes of his friend and the wishes of a commanding officer. 

Koch clapped him cheerfully on the back. "In five minutes we'll know, now won't we? See! There's the 'drom straight ahead."

Trommler still appeared unconvinced.

Koch ignored the look on his face. "Myself, I'm thirsty. How about you?"

"Let's just get this over with, Wolfgang."

"You're in good hands, Sieg," laughed Koch, "I meant to say, Colonel Trommler."

A long line stretched from the entrance of the Hippodrom into the street. "It'll take an hour to get in," groaned Trommler. "We don't have that much time."

"Don't forget the uniform you wear. We're the SS, we go where we want when we want." To prove his point Koch elbowed patrons rudely out of his way as he pushed to the head of the line. "Stand aside, citizens, we're here on business of the Reich."

To Trommler's amazement they were inside a minute later. The din in the Hippodrom was deafening, louder than a Hitler rally. Koch sauntered over to the closest bar. "Spaten," he shouted to the barmaid. He yelled in Trommler's ear, "What are you having, Sieg?"

Trommler yelled back, "I'd better not have anything, we're on duty. Remember?"

Koch hollered to the barmaid, "Make that two steins of Spaten."

Trommler held up his hands helplessly and mouthed to Koch: "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"We have to blend in," Koch shouted, "These black uniforms are intimidating, we can't look as if we're here on business. We have to give the appearance of being off duty, just a couple of soldiers having a lager after they're done for the day."

Trommler shook his head before craning his neck to view the giant festhalle. Well known or not, Monika Fuchsmach would be just one more drunken blonde girl in this madhouse. Before he knew it Koch was thrusting a stein into his hand and informing the barmaid how much the Gestapo appreciated the free beers.

Koch clinked his stein against Trommler's. "Bottoms up!" The Spaten tasted delicious. "Again!" Koch exhorted.

After his second guzzle Trommler's misgivings began to slip away. His friend seemed awfully cocksure, maybe because the colonel obviously respected Wolfgang more than him and he was even younger. He glanced at his watch, forty minutes before they had to meet at the car at the opposite end of the Wies'n.

"We've got less than a half hour before we need to start back," Trommler cautioned Koch.

"Stop looking at your watch and start looking for Monika."

Koch took another long swig of Spaten and led the way. Row after row of tables lined the enormous hall. Barmaids and revelers flowed like a river through the spaces between them. At times the humid press of people brought the majors to a standstill. If they got stuck in this mob Trommler knew there was no way Koch would manage to push through them, even if he drew his gun and started shooting. A stampede would injure hundreds. Trommler hated to think about what havoc a fire would wreak.

Koch gestured with his stein at one table where a bevy of students had discarded their blouses in the heat. Trommler felt the sweat rolling down his chest and back under his uniform, his collar was soaked.

"I'm going to be sopping wet before we get out of here," he said in Koch's ear.

"That's why God created beer," Koch screamed above the noise, "and tits. Get a eyeful of that!"

"We're supposed to be keeping our eyes peeled for Monika."

"I hope she's got her shirt off too."

He upended his stein and Trommler did likewise. The beer did not stop him from perspiring but at least he wasn't thirsty. He wiped a sleeve across his face and then he saw her. Monika! She sat regally at the head of a table full of admirers, signing a napkin for a rotund young man. 

"Wolfgang, you were right," he shouted. "She's over there!"

Victory flushed Koch's sweating face. "What did I tell you, Sieg? Come on!" He dropped his empty stein on the plank floor and angrily coerced civilians to step aside.

Trommler finished his Spaten in a gulp and set his stein on a table. He too assumed his Gestapo authority and began pushing against men and women blocking him. Before long he stood next to Monika Fuchsmach. In person her beauty outweighed what he remembered on the screen, it almost took his breath away. She wore a white satin blouse with a plunging neckline without a bra and a black silk skirt with a printed pink orchid pattern.

She smiled at him. "Would you officers like an autograph?"

Words escaped him but not Koch. "Thank you but no, Fraulein Fuchsmach. I'm going to have to ask you to accompany the major and me."

Her beautiful face blanched. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Just following orders, Fraulein. Do not cause a fuss."

"But I've done nothing," she stammered, placing a hand to her low-necked décolletage. Trommler noticed a shine of perspiration on the exposed flesh of her bosom, nipples hard under the satin. 

Koch just leered. "Don't make me ask a second time, Fraulein. You are under arrest." 

He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. She tried to pull away from him, terror widening her eyes. In a surreal moment Trommler felt sorry for her until a man seated by Monika leaped to his feet. The man was taller than Trommler and broader than a barn. 

He spoke German with a British accent. "Officers, there must be some mistake. Do you not recognize this woman? She's the famous actress Monika Fuchs---"

Koch cut his words short. "We know who she is. Now sit back down, citizen, or you'll be arrested too."

"It will take the two of you to arrest me, now get your filthy hands off her."

Koch nodded to Trommler as he manhandled Monika away from the table. Trommler drew his pistol, leveled it at the man's midriff. "The major advised you to sit down, it would behoove you to take his advice."

The large man growled in English, "You don't dare shoot me in here, you Nazi fuckstick."

Trommler smashed the butt of the Luger down on the man's nose. Bone crunched and blood splashed on Trommler's face. The man sprawled across the table upsetting several beer steins and rolled to the floor, groaning. In another surreal moment he reflected that the bleeding man had not lost consciousness and that the noise diminished nearly to a hush because he could suddenly hear Koch's voice urging him away from there, they had to leave. Monika screamed the name 'Scotty' repeatedly. He snapped out of his daze, jogged to catch up with Koch dragging the resisting actress toward the exit and grabbed her other arm. They began marching her through the throng. 

Fortunately Trommler had not holstered his Luger because he had to use it to threaten men bent on interfering a dozen times. Koch had his pistol drawn too, fighting the same battle. The quiet in the big hall proved to be temporary and angry voices began to shout. A flung beer stein hit him between the shoulder blades. Beer dripped down his collar. Another stein grazed Koch's head, knocked off his peaked cap. Trommler heard an isolated voice say: "That's Monika Fuchsmach."

They were nearly to the door when a bear of a man barred their progress. Koch fired a bullet into his chest. Crimson squirted from the bear's white shirt and he collapsed in slow motion, first to his knees before at last tumbling forward with a mighty crash. The resulting reverberation trembled the planks under Trommler's feet. A collective outcry went up but no other brave souls got involved. Then they were outside the door. The cool evening air bathed him, his uniform drenched in sweat and beer. 

The people lined up to get inside began to shout questions at them. They scattered when Koch fired a warning shot into the air.

 **********

When Ingrid von Schitt heard the single report of a pistol she whirled. The shot rang out in front of her, off to her left. Without a second thought she knew one of her underlings had triggered the round. As she raced in that direction she asked herself: one of her goon girls or the one of those loose cannon majors? She bet the latter. Her boots beat against the turf of the Wies'n as she ran like the devil licked at her heels.

She'd gone about a hundred meters when she almost knocked Erika off her feet.

Breathlessly she asked, "Did you fire that shot?" 

"No," Erika replied, "but it came from up there."

The baroness set off wordlessly with Erika close behind her. No one got in their way, most moved to let them pass not wanting to intervene in Nazi business. Von Schitt bowled more than one person over before she reached the open area in front of the Hippodrom. A multitude congregated watching a tableau of mass confusion unfold. Patrons poured from the festhalle: shouting, pointing, angry.

She recognized Koch's voice, strained with agitation, before she saw him, Trommler too. They had a blonde woman between them who could only be the Fuchsmach tramp. She heard the actress' name being called. Koch waved his Luger, cursing, a wound over an ear leaking blood down the side of his head. He'd lost his cap. Trommler still had his, but he had blood on his face, the front of his uniform. They stood in the center of all the chaos. There would be a riot if von Schitt didn't get matters contained; to make things worse everyone was drunk.

With great authority she strode into the middle of the turmoil and straight over to the SS men and their captive, speaking loudly but calmly, in charge. "Relax, let's everybody relax. We ask that you go about your business. Do not interfere anyone, we don't want consequences." She draped her arms around Trommler and Koch as if embracing them.

Trommler said, "Colonel von Schmitt, there's been trouble but we have the girl."

Monika Fuchsmach asked the colonel, "Who are you?"

"Shut up and listen. I'll take over custody of the Fraulein, you two men get away from here. Hurry up and bring the car around."

"Bring it around where?" Koch gasped.

"Pull up outside St. Paul's. We'll meet you there, now make yourselves scarce before you get torn limb from limb. Go!" She gripped Monika by the forearm while continuing to address the rabble smoothly as a politician. "This is a private affair of the Reich, everything is under control now. Do not accost any of the officers, they are only doing their duty. Create a disturbance at your own peril."

Erika's eyes roved the surroundings hunting for dissent, pistol drawn. "The colonel said stand back. What do you think you're doing, citizen? Back away!" She brought her gun up and a hero retreated into the ranks.

Von Schitt was already moving Monika north toward the church. Erika swept her pistol back and forth in a calculated wide range to keep bystanders at bay. Koch and Trommler seemed frozen in place until Erika urged them unkindly to make tracks as instructed. She wheeled smartly around then to rejoin the baroness who had disappeared from view. 

The majors began walking rapidly to the south end of the grounds, both of them wary. People avoided them as they left the scene. A big man with a smashed and bleeding face stumbled from the entryway of the Hippodrom before they got out of eyesight. He glanced around wildly like he was searching for someone and didn't find whom he wanted; then lurched after Trommler and Koch. At first his gait was unsteady but it improved with each step he took.

He cursed and spat blood every few meters but never stopped, never let the SS majors get too far ahead of him. Once away from the Hippodrom they slowed their pace, intent on where they were going, stuffing their pistols back in their holsters, not checking behind them. When he saw them pause at a beer stall to grab a fistful of paper napkins, he paused too. While waiting he untucked and unbuttoned his shirt and pressed the cloth to his face to check the outpouring of blood. One of the majors threw a glance over his shoulder but the man turned away in time before being recognized. He inched behind a group of tourists for extra concealment and hunched down, conscious of his large build.

The SS officers finished mopping their bloody faces, threw the napkins on the grass and started off again at a trot. The big man fell into step behind them like a shadow they didn't know they cast.

 **********

Ryan Hex halted in his tracks. "Was that a gunshot?"

"Damn sure was," answered Odell Yell, "and it sounded like it came from near the Hippodrom."

Hex's trenchcoat billowed behind him as he burst swiftly past Yell, who had to run to catch up. Yell soon overtook Hex and flew up the thoroughfare ahead of him. Despite the fact he ran track professionally Hex never lagged far behind. But after a minute Yell slowed to a standstill.

"What?" Hex asked when he got to his side.

Yell said under his breath, "Two SS officers at ten o'clock."

"They appear to be in a bit of a hurry," observed Hex.

"Yeah, and one of them's bleeding and minus his hat."

"Is that Scott Hoffner behind them?"

"Sure is, he's beat to shit. Where's Monika?"

"Wherever she is it isn't with him."

Yell opened his mouth to get Hoffner's attention but felt Hex clench his arm. He fell silent.

"Stay with the SS, I'm going to talk with Scotty," Hex said and strolled on without waiting for a reply.

Hex sliced through a bunch of milling people, angled around so his black clothing wouldn't be apparent to the two officers. He was dressed very much like a plainclothes Gestapo agent and didn't want to draw their attention. In a short time he'd circled behind Hoffner, lengthened his stride and fell into step alongside him. Hoffner flinched and jerked his head toward Hex, who had a finger to his lips for silence.

"You tailing those two SS creeps, Scotty?"

"That one in the hat has said his last Sieg Heil. I'm going to pulverize him as soon as I get him alone. The bastards arrested Monika."

Hex swore. "Where is she?"

Hoffner spat some blood on the grass but said nothing about his own wounds. "They must've stashed her someplace, I don't know where."

"Is she all right?"

"The last I saw she was."

"How about you?"

"I've had me nose broken before, mate. I've never died yet."

"Odell's over to our right and he's following too so let's give them all the space they need. Tell me what happened."

Hoffner gave terse account of the fracas in the Hippodrom.

When he concluded his report Hex asked, "Do you have any idea where Monika is?"

"She was with the SS men inside the hall and then outside she wasn't. She couldn't have been out of my visibility for more than two minutes, at the most."

"Seen any brown shirts?"

"Just the SS characters."

"What's your best guess as to Monika's whereabouts?"

"I don't have a clue."

But Hex did. Ingrid von Schitt.

TO BE CONTINUED...



Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 02



Nobody likes being frog-marched in public under the best of circumstances, especially a famous screen actress.

"Who are you?" demanded Monika, "Why have I been placed under arrest?" 

"Stop struggling, you little bitch," von Schitt warned her, "and things will go a lot easier for you. It is futile to resist."

"Oh, I forgot, this is Nazi Germany where no one has any rights anymore." She stomped on the colonel's left foot. Agony lanced through Monika when she felt her forearm jerked higher behind her back.

All the tribulations the baroness had undergone tonight drained what little patience she possessed. If nothing else went wrong she could claim mission accomplished but the Fuchsmach girl squirmed worse than a snake chopped in half. In spite of her preternatural strength the actress stymied her efforts to bring her under control. Von Schitt did not want to kill her, not yet, she needed her mobile and unharmed for the purpose of any propaganda victory. But the young hellcat was determined to draw attention herself before they got off the Oktoberfest grounds. She had some innate cognizance if escorted beyond all the onlookers she might never see the light of day again.

The twin spires of St. Paul's towered on the horizon but von Schitt knew they had another three hundred meters of ground to cover before leaving the Wies'n behind.

"What are you gawking at, citizens?" she barked at a knot of male university students.

Judging from their muscular frames and identical jerseys they must be members of a rugby squad. Von Schitt counted seven of the strapping young lads, all with liters of beer in various stages of completion in their fists, probably too inebriated to have any sense left in their thick skulls. Rugby players have had bad reputations as heavy drinkers and brawlers since the inception of the sport.

One bold fellow slurred in bad German: "I'm not a citizen, me and me ruggers are on holiday from Burton-upon-Trent. We hate Nazis in Burton-upon-Trent, Fraulein."

"I am not a Fraulein, pig dog, I am a Gestapo colonel."

"I don't care if you're Adolf the postcard painter himself. You'll be unhanding the fair lady, don't you know."

Jeers and derisive laughter erupted from his teammates. 

The pretty prisoner glimpsed salvation. "Help me, please. I am Monika Fuchsmach, the film actress. She's holding me against my will."

Great, thought von Schitt, gazing at the church so close yet so far. The knot of players spread out as if lining up on the playing field. Two of the boys tossed back the contents of their steins, dropped them to the ground and rushed von Schitt from each side.

Still holding onto Monika's arm she kicked the one on the right in the chest. He sailed backward through the air and landed on his face, cursing.

That didn't stop the other player. He dived at her knees for a low rough tackle. The baroness was off balance from kicking the first one. Much to her surprise the player succeeded in toppling her. She lost her grip on Monika when she fell and the actress scuffled away.

The rest of the squad howled uproariously until von Schitt lifted the fellow above her while flat on her back. She regained her feet still holding him over her head before slinging him an impressive distance. Monika started to run only to be caught up short in the husky arms of a rugger who played the position of scrum-half.

His breath stank of malt beer when he bawled, "How about a kiss for one of your rescuers?"

Monika wondered if she'd exchanged the frying pan for the fire, but she sweetly said, "I never kiss a handsome man like you until I know his name." She was an actress after all.

Von Schitt ignored the charade and stalked toward Monika and her young roughneck. He told the lovely girl he was named Ian and puckered his lips, unaware of the irate colonel's approach. Cries of warning from his mates came too late; von Schitt clapped her hands against both his ears with brutal force. He unhanded Monika and fell face first at her feet, his skull crushed.

Monika stepped back to flee as the remainder of the squad piled on top of the baroness, burying her ignominiously. The Fraulein darted away, hoping to lose herself among those gathering around when another strong hand grabbed her, this time by the hair. A jackboot kicked her feet out from under her; she sprawled on the turf, stared up into the face of a goon girl. 

Erika had finally caught up with them. She tossed Monika over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, Monika's legs pumping furiously, disarrayed skirt hiked up around her waist displaying brief pink panties for all to see. Erika reached the pile-up and punted a big fullback in the head to assist von Schitt in extricating herself. A few more splendid kicks then Erika and von Schitt were free and clear. Off they ran with the squirming but powerless Monika.

********** Dagmar had waited under the Lion's Head at the Lowenbrau tent long enough. Not a single goon girl or her leader had shown at the appointed time. She was debating on whether to stay put or take up the search anew when she saw the black trenchcoat of the Inspekteur and, walking beside him, the man he had arrested earlier for shooting Astrid. The decision made itself for her and she bolted after them at top speed. They were blissfully unaware of the impending vampire attack.

Odell Yell chose that moment to glance behind him, witnessed the brown shirt racing in for the kill. He knew shouting a warning would be useless amid all the noise. The only thing he could do was try to beat her to the punch. Dagmar did not see Odell Yell, the same way Hex and Hoffner did not see her.

Yell dug a toe into the grass for traction to launch himself into a sprint. People saw the big man hurtling toward them and dodged out of his way. He had twenty meters to go while Dagmar had half the distance, but she was not a world-class track runner. 

"What the bloody hell is Odell doing?" Hoffner asked Hex.

"He's waving his arm about something," Hex said.

Both Hoffner and he looked to the side but Dagmar came at them from an angle behind and they still could not see her. Her long blonde hair flew over her shoulders parallel to the ground as she ran. When close enough to clear the remaining distance in a leap, Dagmar dove at Astrid's murderer, fangs bared. Yell jumped the same moment she did and collided with her in mid-air. He caught the vampire unprepared. His greater weight and bulk combined with the forward inertia of his dive stunned her. She struck the thoroughfare, sliding. Yell worked feverishly trying to straddle her chest so he could hold her down.

People scattered. Hex and Hoffner turned and saw the pair fighting on the pavement. Dagmar clawed like a cat and punched like a boxer. She flattened Yell with a roundhouse that left stars swimming before his eyes. The brown shirt rolled away and hopped to her feet in an instant. Yell lay on his side, unable to get up. Dagmar delivered a kick to his crotch, then administered a nasty backhand that stretched Yell prone. Her original subject Hoffner forgotten, she squatted on Yell's waist pinning his arms with her knees. She choked him hard enough to bulge his eyeballs from their sockets. Hoffner forgot his pending vengeance with Trommler. He rushed over to pull Dagmar off the top of Yell but Hex grabbed the back of Hoffner's belt. Since Hoffner was a bigger man Hex could not stop him, only slow him down.

"What d'yer think you're doin', mate?" he growled at Hex.

"Don't let your SS friends get away, let me handle this brawl." 

"Righto!" Hoffner lumbered away after Trommler and Koch.

Hex drew the .45 with silver ammunition but couldn't risk a shot with all the people around. Getting in close he still could not fire for fear of hitting Yell. Hex raised the gun to bring the butt down on the base of Dagmar's skull when Yell suddenly shoved her aside with a surge of adrenaline. The goon girl rolled again, spoiling his aim inadvertently.

Both Yell and Dagmar gained their feet simultaneously, circling one another like wrestlers. Blood poured from his face. 

"Stay out of this," Yell called to Hex.

"This is the wrong time for fair play, Odell," he shouted.

Dagmar moved in a blur. Yell and she clenched in the center of the walkway, again making a shot impossible. They pushed against each other and in an intense contest of wills stood as still as statues for several seconds. Hex finally lined up a shot but without warning Dagmar went limp, the maneuver brought Yell in close and Dagmar sank her canine fangs into his neck.

Hex aimed his .45 again, he had no choice but to shoot now yet Yell shook his bloody head vigorously at him. 

"No," he rasped.

Dagmar drank hungrily and Yell threw a few weak punches to her iron stomach with no effect whatsoever. He began to slump as she sucked the lifeblood out of him. Bystanders shouted and cursed but that did as little good as Hex trying to get a clean shot. With renewed effort Dagmar clamped down harder on Yell's neck and violently shook her head like an angry wolfhound with a barnyard chicken in its jaws. His arms fell to his sides in a resignation of death, knees bending slowly as he sank to the ground. From somewhere a woman screamed helplessly in horror. Somebody hurled a beer stein that shattered on the back of Dagmar's head. She released the dying Yell with a ferocious monstrous roar, glaring back and forth, gore smeared on the lower half of her face, dripping from her wide open mouth.

Hex was about to shoot her down when a woman got in the way.

In his death throes Yell's right hand fumbled inside his jacket. The hand emerged holding a wooden crossbow quarrel, then thrust upward with every ounce of his remaining strength. Dagmar's unearthly roar ceased abruptly like someone switching off a noisy radio blaring static. She staggered in a half circle, eyes in shock, the quarrel protruding from her chest. She grasped it in her hands as if to tear it from her heart. Hex saw the life in her eyes leave her. She slouched to the thoroughfare, a death rattle emitted from her throat.

Hex raced to where Yell lay with a gaping wound in the side of his neck, one leg jerking spasmodically. Yell reached a shaking, weak hand up, Hex took it, squeezing it in helpless frustration.

"Odell, your brother would be proud of the fine work you've done today, very proud."

Yell had a pleased look etched on his face. A delighted smile formed, eventually spreading from ear to ear. 

"Three out of three, Mr. Hex," he murmured before he died.

**********

"What have I been telling you all night, Sieg? We did it, we damn well did it! We'll be colonels before All Hallow's Eve."

"Are you going to be okay, Wolfgang? You're head's bleeding again."

Koch grinned, "Nothing a bit of local antiseptic won't cure." He veered off the main drag to a small beer stall across from the Ferris wheel, admiring the bottom of a plump Fraulein in front of him as he went.

"What are you doing now, Wolfgang?"

"What's it look like? We're going to have a celebratory liter."

"But the colonel said get the car and bring it around."

"That bitch can wait an extra minute. We're the ones who did her dirty work for her. We're bloody heroes, and I do mean that literally."

Trommler said, "But---"

Koch shook his head, adamant. "No buts, my friend." He instructed a wizened fellow with garters on his sleeves and a dirty visor in the stall to draw a couple of Paulaners, and be quick about it. 

"We don't have the time for beer right now, Wolfgang."

Koch flapped an oblivious hand. "We'll drink these on the way to the car, it's just past the fun-fair."

"I really don't think it's wise to dally."

Koch ignored him. The man in the visor was arguing with him about not paying for the beers. "Heroes of the Reich drink for free, old man. Shove it!" He strolled away from the stall with a stein in each hand, the vendor calling meekly after him.

Trommler accepted one of the liters. It hadn't taken that long, only a minute; Wolfgang had been right again. He'd been right all evening long now that Trommler thought about it. To hell with von Schitt, they deserved to wet their whistles after the dangerous work they'd performed. They'd stared death in the face opposing the mob in the Hippodrom. And what had Colonel von Schitt done? Not a damned thing but stand around with her thumb up her arse. And she was sure to hog all the credit for tonight's brave deeds. Wolfgang and he would give Herr Himmler a full accounting of the immense danger they had faced, and overcome. Trommler tipped back his head for a tremendous swallow of Paulaner, slopping a little on his uniform as he strutted forth with a spring in his step.

Not far away Hoffner resumed trailing the two majors. He'd shuffled over to a queue and pretended to wait for an oversized Frau in a stained dirndl who leisurely dispensed oversized pretzels. Had he truly desired a snack he'd have another five minutes of waiting, minimum. The thought in his head was the Nazi had about another five minutes of life in him, maximum.

The two men neared the southernmost end of the Wies'n, surely close to their destination. Hoffner's palms itched. He wanted to break something, confident he'd get his wish shortly. The crowds thinned beyond the fun-fair, a thicket of cars and busses parked on the concrete apron. The SS officers paused at the edge of the parking area, swilling their beer apparently without any inkling they were being shadowed.

The man without a hat said something to his cohort; his voice carried to where Hoffner stood: "Wait here, Siegfried, no sense in both of us wallowing through this disorganized mess. I've got the car keys, I'll find the Mercedes and fetch you. Relax and enjoy your Paulaner. Want a cigarette?"

"Thanks, no, I have some left. Carry on, Colonel Koch."

His companion chuckled and disappeared among the vehicles.

Good fortune at last, Hoffner thought grimly, the bastard's alone now.

His build made him naturally conspicuous, dictating the need for the utmost caution. But he should be able to sneak up on the man in a roundabout fashion even with so few people around. The supercilious thug set his stein on the bonnet of a nearby Rekord and dug in his pocket for a smoke. Hoffner would rejoice in his revenge, but felt guilty about the arrest and disappearance of Monika. But after this little drama played itself out he and his friends would set that score right. He gravitated west into the shadows, light on his feet for such a big man, intent on blindsiding the SS chap before his mate returned.

Hoffner crouched and slid under a chain cordoning off the area. He started crawling on his hands and knees between the parked vehicles. Several rows over he heard an ignition turn over, the gunning of an engine and became anxious. Just a few more cars and he'd be at the Rekord. He stripped off his shirt, touched it gingerly to the blood on his face one last time and discarded it. Now he crouched on the other side of the Rekord, raised up high enough to see through the rear passenger window. The man leaned against the car with his back to him, humming off key. Hoffner lowered himself till his face touched concrete and peered underneath the vehicle. He saw a solitary boot, the man must have his other foot propped on the running board. 

In his murderous rage Hoffner hadn't been exactly certain how he would kill the German but now he did. By slithering beneath the car he could grasp the unsuspecting man by the ankle and pull hard enough to send him face down. With any luck at least one bone would break. The man would be disoriented and in shock, with the added advantage of having surprise on his side Hoffner would have ample time to overpower him. His knife would do the rest. Afterwards he'd relieve the German of his Luger (and have a tidy souvenir to show his children one day.) Then Hoffner would conceal himself among the cars and wait. When the other man returned with the Mercedes he'd see the corpse stretched on the parking apron. With no one else in sight his natural instinct could only be to get out of the car to investigate. 

That's when he'd get his throat cut.

With infinite care Hoffner eased on his belly under the Rekord, the underside scraping against his back. It gave him a moment of doubt. He might be too big to a man to be crawling under cars but he didn't have time to change plans now, besides he didn't have a second plan. He'd make it work. After he achieved a comfortable position allowing sufficient leverage he paused and flexed his hands. The jackboot was only centimeters away. He seized it in both hands and jerked very hard and almost hit himself in the face with it.

The boot was empty and he knew he was a dead man. A foot in a white sock touched the ground and then a boot appeared before Hoffner's eyes. The underside of the car lifted up slightly off his back with a squeak of the suspension being relieved of weight as the German stepped down from the running board, where he'd been perched. Behind him Hoffner felt a metal object jab him in the right calf, a gun barrel. At the same time a pair of eyes locked with his, they belonged to the man who'd stood on the car. Also the cold round eye of a Luger's snout.

A voice, distorted by the body of the Rekord, said from the other side of the car: "Have you got your gun trained on him yet, Siegfried?"

"Ja!"

"Crawl forward nice and slow, mein herr, or you'll receive a bullet in each of your balls."

The Nazi glaring at him spoke: "You heard the man, come out from under there."

Hoffner cursed. If he tried to get cute he'd have his brains blown out, or worse. At least they weren't going to shoot him right away. If they questioned him he might be able to stall them long enough for Hex and Yell to show up. If he cooperated he might live through this. Two ifs too many, but he had no other options. 

He dragged himself reluctantly from underneath the car. 

When he started to regain his feet the Nazi said, "No, no, no, just sit down. That's good, place the palms of your hands on the concrete, no, wider apart."

Footsteps. The second SS officer came around the front of the Rekord, got down on his haunches and put the barrel of his Luger against Hoffner's left temple. He said, "Go ahead and get your shoe back on, Sieg, and we'll search this fucker."

"Wolfgang, it is the same man from the Hippodrom, just as we suspected. The one sitting with Monika whose face I smashed."

"I recognize him. How are you doing, old friend?"

Hoffner smiled weakly and asked, "Are we friends?"

"Perhaps not. We're Nazi fucksticks if I rightly recall."

"Just kill him and get it over with, the colonel is waiting."

"That cow is going to have to wait a few more minutes."

Just then a man and woman passed by but when the man called Wolfgang gave them a mean look they turned their heads away and minded their own business.

"Is the coast clear now, Sieg?"

"I don't see a soul, but that could change any second."

"Keep him covered while I frisk him for weapons." He patted both of Hoffner's trouser pockets then ran a hand down each leg. "Hold your right hand in the air and stand up, easy does it. Now face away from me." A big hunting knife in a sheath hung from his belt over his right hip. 

The one named Siegfried instructed, "Keep your right hand held up and, with your left, unbuckle your belt, pull it through the belt loops so the blade drops to the ground. Good, now hand me the belt." He stooped to pick up the knife, sliding it into the top of a jackboot. "Get your hands behind your back so I can fasten your wrists together."

Siegfried wound the belt around each wrist several times, then cinched it tight and buckled it. There was a little play when he finished but it would be some impediment if Hoffner decided to try swinging his fists.




Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 02



"Okay, friend," Wolfgang said to him, "this is what we're going to do. I will lead the way to the car and you stay five steps behind me. Siegfried is going to have his pistol at your back so don't do anything stupid. You act up and it's bang bang. And no talking."

The man threaded between the cars, Hoffner started following him once the other one nudged him in the small of the back with his Luger. The infrequent drunk tottered about or couples left early like the one they encountered earlier, occasionally a car started. Hoffner could see headlights now and then, but by and large the parking apron was devoid of people. The beer tents did not close for two or three more hours yet. Hoffner wracked his brain for a way out, prayed for an escape route. He wondered ruefully if these were the last few minutes of his life.

"I thought I was pretty crafty sneaking up on you lads but you totally outfoxed me."

"We're the master race, " said the man in back of him.

"No talking!" Wolfgang reminded them.

Siegfried snickered, "You're big as an ox and bleeding like a stuck pig. How could we miss you?"

"No talking means you too, Sieg. Talk is distracting."

"Fine, but have you lost the car?"

"You know where it is too, you tucked away the camera."

"Isn't that it right over there?"

"Maybe. I wish the colonel let me leave the flags on, they always stand out. We're liable to wander around half the night."

Hoffner remembered the first time they spoke loud enough for him to discern the words, when they made their stop for Paulaners. Why had he not thought it odd that the one told the other to wait while he got the Mercedes? They'd obviously plotted in whispers while he stumbled along behind them: we'll stop for beer, give the fool time to close in enough to overhear our conversation, then pretend to split up in the car park to bait the trap, catch him in our crossfire. 

Bloody nuisance, Hoffner thought. He knew the secret agent trade was hazardous when he signed on. Stupid bloody nuisance.

"There's our transportation, just one more row over," Wolfgang said. "You see anyone skulking about?"

"Nobody except us. You think von Schitt wants to talk to this lummox?"

"That's a stupid question, she's already got Fraulein Monika. What's she need this nitwit bodyguard for? He's too big and is only good for causing trouble. Step out from behind him, Sieg."

Wolfgang pressed the barrel of his gun deep into Hoffner's gut to muffle the report of the bullet and fired once.

They left him lying there in a sea of blood.

**********

"Who are you?" Monika asked the woman beside her again.

"Colonel von Schmitt. I command Hitler's Vampire Korps. I'm sure you've heard of them."

Monika steadfastly refused to look her in the eye.

She cuffed the actress, who kept her eyes downcast, a ringlet of golden hair hanging in her face.

"You have caused me more trouble than you're worth, my little pudding. Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right here and now."

The girl was too scared to speak. Fear radiated off of her in waves. Her best efforts to foil von Schitt had failed. Now she had her at her mercy. Only scant meters away folks ambled along the sidewalk in front of the massive St. Paul's Church, but the colonel knew Monika had more sense than to cry out for help. They sat in the shadows at the top of the church steps. On the sidewalk Erika stood with her arms folded over her brown shirt regalia watching the foot traffic, as if daring anyone to notice and say something.

Not a single peep issued from Monika when the colonel cuffed her again. The baroness let off steam with minor token abuses, they made her feel better, superior to such a beautiful woman. Each slap reddened Monika's cheeks, meant to humiliate more than harm. Von Schitt could have slain her with one blow if she wanted to. Instead Monika's face burned red from the cuffing, but she'd suffered no worse so far, not even a split lip. Von Schitt liked females, especially attractive ones, and wished to keep Monika pretty, at least for the time being. But she wearied of the girl's acquiescence, knew she was a long way from conquering the actress' uncommonly strong will.

Monika had not responded to any questions put to her, hadn't pleaded once since they'd left the Wies'n that roiled with color and light and noise across the street.

"Why not hypnotize her, colonel?" suggested Erika, bored.

Von Schitt smiled for the first time in hours. Why hadn't she thought of that when the tramp had disobeyed her when they left the Oktoberfest? Now Monika deigned not to look at her but that might be because she knew herself to be under the power of the dreaded Vampire Korps. Pampered spoiled stuck up snot! She should have ensorcelled her with her vampire's gaze outside the Hippodrom, but she'd been so preoccupied trying to spirit her away and fight the public outcry at the same time the idea simply never crossed her mind. 

Armed with a new approach she immediately squeezed Monika's face between the thumb and fingers of her hand. "Gaze upon me."

The girl's eyes appeared glazed and faraway. She focused on a distant point somewhere over the colonel's shoulder, exactly the way Himmler had done earlier in his hotel suite. He ostensibly differed from Monika, she did not have the power to unleash the entire Wehrmacht on her. Even a vampire could not withstand the onslaught of a battalion of troops.

"Gaze upon me, I said."

When Monika lolled apathetically in her grasp the wily colonel cruelly pinched one of her nipples until the lofty actress' eyes sprung wide open. That got her attention! The baroness looked longingly into those eyes, her own blazing with supernatural blue fire in the darkness. One minute passed, another; then Monika's abstract glazed eyed defense faltered. Von Schitt was touching her breasts through her blouse, alternating between them. The young woman had firm ones that did not require the support of a bra, wasn't wearing one tonight, her nipples hard as bullets. Now von Schitt removed her teasing hand, slid it up one luscious thigh encased in a silk stocking, curling a finger under the ribbon of the garter suspending it. The warm flesh above Monika's thigh felt pliant and smooth, the way a young lady's skin ought to feel. 

The colonel's fingernails scraped lightly, high on the naked leg. Monika's breath caught in her throat. Von Schitt smiled to herself. When she inevitably cupped the front of Monika's panties a tiny moan escaped her throat, almost inaudible. She stroked a finger sensually up and down the vertical indentation formed where the panties fit tight. Even through the nylon the girl's arousal was obvious. The fondling elicited another moan but nothing like the one when von Schitt's hand quested inside the legband of the skimpy underwear. She dipped a finger inside where Monica's flesh was open and wet. The digit slid deeply in and slowly out. Monika shuddered at the tender penetration. She clamped her thighs together, inarticulate sounds issuing from her that were not words but spoke volumes of the way the baroness made her feel. Triumph at last!

Von Schitt removed her hand from inside the panties to a sigh of protest. She touched the intrusive finger to Monika's lips. When she sucked it into her mouth the baroness' panties became as wet as Monika's. The girl was exciting her the way she excited millions of filmgoers. Extracting her forefinger from the young slut's mouth she leaned close and kissed the defenseless actress. 

"That's a lot better, isn't it, sweetheart?"

"Oh yes, colonel."

"You may call me Ingrid." She pressed her lips to Monika 's again, this time at great length and with exquisite passion.

When she broke the kiss Monika moaned, "Yes, Ingrid."

"Wait until I get you in the car," purred the baroness, "I will drink from your fountain until you scream."

The girl pouted in impatience. "How much time will it take the car to get here?" 

"Not much longer, my lovely."

"We don't have to wait for the car." She clasped von Schitt's hand and slid it back inside her panties. "You know what you've done to me, I want you right now. Why should we wait?"

Desire flooded the colonel. Who was hypnotizing whom? She pushed Monika's blonde curls aside with her free hand and licked at the inside of her ear. "Impatient decadent girls like you are just asking to get spanked."

Monika squeezed her legs together, trapping the hand between them, "I not asking."

"Are you begging?"

"I will if you want me to."

Her intimate whispers made Ingrid von Schitt's mouth dry. The delicious young beauty was hers to command.

"I want to ask you some questions now, Monika. Do I have your promise to answer truthfully?"

"I promise, Ingrid. You'll keep yours about what you said you'd do to me in the car, won't you."

"You can believe I will," she murmured, withdrawing her fingers from Monika's aroused opening. Her eyes glittered like blue fire again and they bored into Monika's to ensure truth. "Do you know who killed a brown shirt girl of mine named Astrid?"

Monika spoke like a robot, eyes blank. "No."

"Who did you come to the Oktoberfest with?"

"A man named Odell Yell."

"Is he not one of your lovers?"

"No, Odell's manager and mine planted that story in the press."

"A publicity stunt?"

"Exactly."

"But you were photographed getting off the Orient Express with Odell Yell this evening. Astrid is one of the girls who saw the two of you. Why were you traveling with Odell?"

"That was all our managers' idea. Odell and I are friends, not lovers."

"Do you go to bed with a lot of men?"

"Yes."

"Do you enjoy the act of love, crave it?"

"Very much."

"Do you want me to make love to you, Monika?"

"Yes, Ingrid, please."

"Have you ever made love with a woman before?"

"No."

"Are you anxious to experience such a new adventure?"

"Very anxious."

Von Schitt switched the softened line of inquiry back to harder questioning, an old and effective interrogation technique. "Do you know if Odell Yell killed Astrid?"

"No."

"Do you know an archer who can shoot a crossbow?"

"Maybe Odell can. He's an athlete."

"Was a crossbow or any other archery equipment among his luggage?"

"No."

"Did the two of you meet anybody when you got off the train?"

"Yes."

"Whom did you meet? Please elaborate."

"One man I only know by the name of Scotty."

"Who else?"

"A man named Ryan."

"Are they assassins for a government agency?"

"Judging from the way they talked they work for some kind of spy network, I don't know if it's with the government."

"What did they talk about?"

"I heard them mention enemy agents when they were scouting locations."

"Scouting locations is cinema jargon."

Monika did not respond, eyes staring into nothingness. Von Schitt remembered she had to ask a question to get an answer while employing hypnosis. "What specifically do you mean by scouting locations?"

"I was with them earlier when they walked from one end to the other through the Wies'n."

"Were they searching for something, or someone?"

"They were searching for places to set up counterespionage operations."

"What kind of places?"

"Ryan wanted to find exits, drop points, spots where they could hide if they got into trouble."

"Where did you meet Scotty and Ryan?"

"They met us across from the Ferris wheel in a beergarden."

"How did you get involved with them?"

"Through my acquaintance with Odell. I think I'm supposed to be part of some kind of cover story."

"You're not involved with the killings?"

"No. Killings, plural?"

"Another one of my girls got shot with a crossbow too. What do you know about that?"

"Nothing. I did not see them shoot anyone." 

"You took no part in these assassinations?"

"Oh never, I'm an actress not an assassin." 

"Do you know a man named Inspekteur Kuntz?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"No. I only know what I told you."

The blue fire shimmered and faded. Von Schitt's eyes became normal again. She kissed Monika on the mouth and put a hand on each of her breasts, massaging them. The nipples hardened in a trice, poked into von Schitt's palms. Monika wavered in and out of the trance she'd been in, moaning, kissing back feverishly. She put her hand between the girl's legs again. Her heated desire was genuine. The colonel glanced at Erika. She had seen the women kissing before and the baroness' hand under the girl's skirt, but chose to watch the street.

"Any sign of the car, a long black Mercedes?"

Erika replied, "Not yet, colonel."

"Any sign of Dagmar?"

"Not since we split up outside the Armbrustschutzen tent."

"I wonder where she got off to."

"She might be waiting under the Lion's Head. Do you want me to go back and check the Lowenbrau tent?"

"There isn't enough time, Erika." 

Translation: there'd better not be time. 

Where were those goddamned majors?

**********

Hex's stomach sank when he witnessed Hoffner take a bullet in the stomach. 

A minute more and he'd have been in position to sneak up on the Nazi behind Hoffner. He reached the parking apron when the SS officers began marching his friend away. Crouching between cars he managed to follow abreast of them until nearly close enough for an ambush. Now he'd lost two of his agents, and Monika. Yell had gone down fighting but the callous shooting of Hoffner nauseated him. Hex had to see if he still lived. 

The SS majors stopped to unlock the door of a big Mercedes twenty meters away when Hex came across Hoffner's body. His stomach was blasted open, intestines exposed in the messiest wound Hex had ever seen in a long life of violence. Hoffner still breathed, gulping in noisy gasps of oxygen. 

"Hex?" he asked, the syllable a tremendous effort.

"Scotty," he said, his face a tight mask. "I'm sorry."

"Get them," he wheezed. "Monika . . . with . . . Schitt."

"They're taking the car to pick up Monika and von Schitt?"

Hoffner could only nod, choking on blood. Hex gently moved his face over on its side so the fluids leaked out of his mouth.

"I'll get a doctor from one of the first aid tents, wait---"

"No," he coughed. "Hurry. Save . . . her . . ."

"You're sure you don't want help?"

His eyes told Hex he knew he was done for. "Kill . . . them . . . for, ugh . . ."

"Kill them for you? I will. Count on it."

"Thanks," he said weakly, strangling now on blood.

Afterwards Hex smelt the stench of voided bowels and knew Hoffner had died.

His head jerked up when he heard a car start. For some reason the driver kept putting it in gear, taking it out, putting it back. Hoffner had brought Hex here in his car but he had no time to get to it, the keys were still in Hoffner's pocket anyway. He saw the Mercedes hemmed in by other automobiles, one of the majors having to jockey it out of its space. Curses reached his ears from the car. 

He moved quickly, almost at a run, head down. The Mercedes was about clear when Hex got a foot on its back bumper, the car lurched forward rocking on its springs. A round spare tire holder was attached to the boot and he clung to it. The car backed up one last time before finally proceeding forward. Hex dragged his other foot onto the bumper and held on tight. 

As the car picked up speed his long trenchcoat flapped like a flag and he tucked it around his legs to prevent it from dragging the road. The Mercedes stopped at an intersection. Hex noticed a couple of drunken men in suspenders and lederhosen looking askance at him hanging from the back of a car about to pick up speed. He drew his .45 and wagged it like an admonishing finger at them when they began to say something to the occupants inside the Mercedes. The men abruptly turned in the other direction and departed with great haste.

The long car departed too. Hex wondered how long he could hold on when they rolled at full speed, made turns, hit potholes; how long before somebody drew attention to him, how long of a journey lay ahead. Their destination was unknown to him, but if he'd correctly understood Hoffner's dying words the Mercedes was bound to meet with von Schitt and pick up Monika somewhere along the way. 

He'd holstered his pistol, crammed his fedora down on his head to keep from losing it in the whipping wind. Exhaust fumes caused his eyes to water but he dared not shut them. What a fool's errand he'd embarked on! Two good men had already died, both deaths had been his fault. He'd be damned if he'd let an innocent girl perish without a fight, even if it cost him his own life. At the very least when he caught sight of von Schitt he'd put a silver bullet through her black heart and otherwise go to his grave fighting come what may.

The lights of Oktoberfest blurred by, the cool night air whistled in his ears. Fortunately no other cars drove behind them or he'd be illuminated like a painting in the Louvre by their headlamps. In a busy city like Munich it would take no time before that happened. A police car would queer the deal in a hurry. What had he been thinking? He had a fake gold badge but no real credentials and Gestapo authority overrode the law anyway, especially since the Munich Agreement had been signed two short days ago. 

Fool's errand!

Eventually other cars appeared, but aside from the occasional honked horn no one took much notice. Perhaps the other drivers thought it a lark a drunk from the Oktoberfest hitched a ride on a German staff car. Even devoid of swastikas the Mercedes looked like what it truly was: a Nazi vehicle. Most good Bavarian citizens would go out of their way not to assist the SS. The thought helped his morale, but not much.

The Mercedes slowed, probably for a stop sign. A carload of rowdy citizens hooted behind the Mercedes but Hex grinned into their lights like a good-natured lunatic, cautioned them to silence with an exaggerated comedic finger to his lips. Their hooping and hollering ceased like Hex hoped. But such good luck could not stay with him long. Where the hell was the Mercedes headed to anyway?

Five minutes crept by like five hours.

At last the big car drifted to the left, came to a stop at the curb and cut its lights. Over his shoulder an enormous church reared two spires and a bell tower skyward. Trying to evenly distribute his weight he put one foot at a time onto the road and eased off the bumper so not to alert the SS officers inside. Hex hunched down drawing the .45 again, scooting backward, keeping his head low. Words were being exchanged between the passenger and someone on the steps of the big church. He crawled under the back of the car to have a look-see, careful to avoid the hot tailpipe.

Lights around the perimeter of the church limned the edifice to display its architectural magnificence after dark. Whoever called from the steps would have seen him had it not been nighttime with spotlights shining in their eyes. Two uniformed female figures hurried down the steps toward the Mercedes, one of them Ingrid von Schitt carrying what might have been a sleeping child in her arms. The other woman was definitely not Monika Fuchsmach but a brown shirted goon girl. Hex recognized her from earlier in the evening at the train station and later from the beer tent where Odell Yell had loosed his first arrow.

From his vantage point he could have put a bullet in her heart. Two things stopped him: another dead goon girl would not win the war; he wanted von Schitt; and it was Monika bundled in her arms, obstructing a perfectly good shot. Now he had them all in range of his .45 and could not do a single damned constructive thing! 

His mind reeled with unsavory choices.

He thought about shooting out the rear tires to disable the Mercedes, gunning down the SS men and taking his chances with the two vampires. All four of the Nazis had Lugers however and Monika might get hit by a stray bullet. If not, when the baroness became aware of an ambush she might put the bite on Monika and all would have been for naught. If he didn't die in the ensuing hail of gunfire the Prime Minister and Tobias Rothschild would string him up by his nuts.




Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 02



No matter how many years he'd been hunting the head of the Vampire Korps, after losing Hoffner and Yell in the last hour, he was unwilling to sacrifice Monika, not now; or, he hated to admit it, not yet. She still lived and so did he. Fucking hell, he'd hop on the bumper again and ride it out. Von Schitt set Monika in the back seat of the car and piled in afterward. He could blow her head off through the back window before cops or Nazis showed up or drunks gave him away somewhere down the line.

Gnashing his teeth in frustration he edged from underneath the car. Kneeling by the back bumper he waited until the goon girl stepped inside. When the springs of the Mercedes bent with her weight he got his feet on the bumper and his hands on the spare tire holder again. 

Fool's errand!

**********

Trommler sat behind the wheel with Koch next to him on the left passenger side in the front seat. 

The car idled, the men awaiting orders. In the rear view mirror Trommler could see Monika, who seemed unnaturally subdued compared to the last time he'd seen her, like she'd been drugged. She was quite lovely despite being disheveled and with her hair uncombed. He wanted to grab her, kiss those full, pouting lips that drove men crazy all over Germany. The tips of her nipples pushed against the material of the low cut blouse. He hoped that von Schitt hadn't been stringing Wolfgang and him along about getting to ravish her. She'd wanted to them to drop their pants in the alley but that may have been a joke; Himmler had told her to let Koch and him assist her in humiliating Monika. Regardless he wanted her naked, writhing beneath him. Just her proximity made his desire evident in a physical sense; he shifted in his seat.

Colonel von Schitt complained about the amount of time it had taken them to arrive with the car. Koch explained they had been detained having to kill a man for trying to follow them.

The baroness said, "Major Koch, get the camera stuff and come sit back here with us."

While Koch eagerly changed seats Trommler asked, "Where do you want to go, colonel?"

"Head south out of town, on the outskirts there's a paved road going west, about ninety kilometers away is a big pine forest."

"I know the way."

"Excellent, major. We're going to be pretty busy back here so alert me when you see trees."

Koch got in the back, sat on the bench seat facing the rear of the Mercedes with Erika. Monika and von Schitt faced them in the other seat. The colonel nuzzled the lovely actress as soon as the car began moving, kissing her on the mouth and unbuttoning her white blouse. When Monika's breasts were bared she instructed the girl to remove the blouse. She offered no resistance, did so in a daze. Everyone in the car admired her nakedness, including Trommler via the rear view mirror. Her big plump breasts rode high and firm for their size, almost in defiance to the laws of gravity. They quivered with the motion of the ride, the nipples large and more pink than tan. 

Von Schitt put her arm around Monika. "I think this would make a nice photograph, major, try to get both of us in the shot."

"Even with the flash, colonel, I think a bit more light is called for." He flipped the switch for the overhead and the rear of the car lit up with soft illumination. He fiddled with the camera a minute then put his eye to the viewfinder. "Fraulein, how about a nice smile."

Monika smiled dreamily as the flash bulb popped, freezing the moment in time of von Schitt kneading her outstanding attributes. 

"Would you take off your skirt, dear?" requested the colonel.

The girl gave no indication she intended to comply and the baroness thrust her toward Erika and tugged the garment down herself. Monika bent between the seats in only her garter belt, stockings and a tiny pair of panties. Koch watched her eyes go wide when the colonel pulled her panties down to her knees and pressed her face between her buttocks. Monika gasped as the tongue invaded her most private spaces. Her breathing changed and her eyelids lowered. In a minute or two von Schitt directed her back into her lap. With the panties down around her thighs the overhead light made the meaty lips between Monika's legs visible. She had a blonde pubic thatch only a shade or two darker than the hair on her head. The colonel delved a finger inside the young girl until she moaned. She placed the fragrant finger, now shiny with wetness, into Monika's mouth so she could taste herself.

Koch opened the camera bag for another bulb. Not only had Trommler stocked the bag with bulbs and extra rolls of film, but he'd had the foresight to bring along an overnight kit and a bottle of wine. "Siegfried, you are using your head tonight. Colonel, are you in for a surprise." He held up the bottle of wine for her to see.

Von Schitt paid Trommler her only compliment of the evening. Her hand wandered down again into Monika's lap. Koch set the overnight kit on the seat to get at the flashbulbs. With a fresh bulb in place he snapped another picture, his desire physically rampant. 

"Open the wine for us, major, and let me have that shaving kit as well. Monika, sit beside me and take your panties all the way off."

She slipped unselfconsciously out of the nylon underthings, aware of every eye staring at her. Evidently she enjoyed being the center of attention. Since her body blossomed in her teens she'd known of her power over grown men and had exploited it to her advantage, reveling in her womanhood. Her beautiful face and splendid ripe body opened many doors for her. She slept with all the attractive men of her choice: photographers, professors, one or two casting directors, actors, soldiers, with many other women's husbands. While only seventeen her acting career began and in the next two years she'd appeared in five films.

At the moment she was appearing on film again, if the photos the SS man took became public her acting career would be ruined and her private life scandalized. Even the most wanton American sex sirens did not allow pictures taken of them unclad. The major snapped a shot of her with her legs widespread. 

Von Schitt rubbed Monika's pink openness, combed her fingers through her pubic hair. The colonel grinned when she fished into Trommler's overnight kit. Wonderful, she thought, he brought his shaving cream and straight razor. She filled her hand with lather, ordered Koch to pass Monika the wine bottle. 

"Drink up, my sweet seductress, I want you as uninhibited as possible because you're about to stage the performance of your lifetime. But while you drink yourself into a stupor you're going to get a shave and a haircut, and I don't mean the hair on your head." 

Later she would shave Monika's head like the Nazis shaved the heads of Jewish women in Berlin. For the present time she still wanted her lovely and appealing for her purposes. She made the girl lean against the car door with her legs apart so she could lather her pubic hair. Koch took several more photographs and Monika took several big drinks while von Schitt shaved her mound of Venus bare. She wiped away the excess shaving cream with the discarded blouse and inspected her handiwork. 

The wine made Monika's head spin and Erika took the bottle back before it got dropped on the floorboard. She sloshed the leftover contents around in a circular motion, the actress had drunk two thirds of it. The shaving of her pubes for an audience obviously had excited Monika in the extreme, her lips swollen and sprung deliciously apart, the mouth between glistening. The baroness bent forward to taste Monika's copious secretions.

Monika arched her back, mewling with pleasure because the woman licking and nibbling at the sensitive folds of her flesh had had much practice at what she was doing. Before too long she wrapped her thighs around von Schitt's head and in the minutes thereafter assumed a rhythm against her face. The colonel drank intently as the actress became tremendously animated under her ministrations. Eyes closed, Monika tugged at her own nipples, biting at her bottom lip and groaning constantly. The groans increased in volume until Monika gasped. A series of delighted screams ensued. She got so loud that Erika snatched up the pink panties from the car seat and stuffed them in Monika's mouth, muting her frantic cries but not stopping them. She continued screaming and hunching and pinching her own nipples. Finally her hands left her breasts to hold the other woman's head firmly in place.

The pungent aroma of young female arousal filled the car.

Monika sighed with disappointment around the mouthful of panties when Ingrid von Schitt, who'd so skillfully pleased her, finally came up for air, gazing down as if hypnotized herself at the charming truffles framing the portal of Monika's femininity. She fiddled with those uneven scrolled flaps as she caught her breath, her face smeared with the sweet juice of which she'd imbibed like a glutton. 

From where Koch sat the pronounced round muscle beneath Monika's vulva was unashamedly on display. The baroness must have noticed it too because she teased it at length with a fingertip before inserting it to the knuckle. As she eased her forefinger in and out repeatedly Monika's hips lifted off the car seat. A gasp escaped the flush-faced actress, her skin blotched here and there with redness, especially her tummy and trembling breasts. 

Still lewdly probing Monika's defenseless anus, she asked, "Did you have an orgasm, honey? It's all right to spit the panties out now so you can speak."

"I had a lot of them," the girl panted. She spread the cheeks of her buttocks wide, rotated enthusiastically against von Schitt's hand. "No one's ever done that to me before, I like it."

"Squeeze my finger with your muscle. Just like that. Oh, you are such a naughty thing." 

Von Schitt eventually withdrew her finger with a plop that sounded not unlike a cork popping out of a champagne bottle although not nearly as loud. Maybe that reminded the colonel of the wine and she motioned for Erika to pass it over. She tipped the bottle back for a healthy pull, touched her fingers to her chin. "Look what you've gotten all over my face, you tasty girl," she chided. "Give me a kiss, darling, but first clean up what you got all over my face with your tongue."

Koch finished the roll of film while the two women kissed. He reloaded the camera, resumed staring at the wide-splayed crease between Monika's thighs and the inviting tight grommet of flesh nestled in the valley of her buttocks. For over half an hour an uncomfortable pulsing hardness strained against his jodhpurs. He wished the colonel would let him relieve it with Monika, but relief was not yet in store for him. The baroness undid her belt and started taking off her jacket. 

"Why don't you get undressed too, Erika, and partake of this feast yourself." She stroked at Monika's brazenly exposed naked lips again. "Doesn't she have a pretty pussy? It reminds me of one of the flowers in a Georgia O'Keefe painting."

In anticipation Erika ran her tongue around the outside of her mouth. She shed her uniform with great haste.

"Major Koch, you may turn off the overhead light if you want. Personally I don't care if you see me nude and I know Erika has no reservations. After we're through I promise you'll get your turn. You too, Major Trommler, and please watch the road more than the mirror. You don't want to crash the car before you get to indulge in this fabulous morsel, do you?"

"No, colonel, I certainly don't." He had one hand on the wheel and the other in his lap, enduring the same condition as Koch.

"How close are we to the forest?"

"I reckon another fifteen twenty minutes."

Satisfied that Trommler had the driving under control she got out of her jackboots and shoved down her trousers and her own damp panties. Erika had already stripped. She slid over next to Koch, playfully unzipped his pants and freed his discomfort. She gripped him in both hands. 

"That is impressive, major. Be sure to save some for me," she said wickedly. "Have you seen this, Ingrid? He's big as a horse."

The colonel smiled knowingly, "So is his friend." She turned to Monika, who also stared in awe at what Erika held in her hands. Von Schitt told her, "Now you're going to do the same thing to me that I did to you, my sweet little pudding, except keep your finger to yourself. While you lick me, Erika is going to be licking you. Understood?"

Monika nodded with eagerness. Initially the three women arranged themselves on the car seat, but after a cramped few minutes decided the floorboard afforded them more room. Erika reached for Monika's clothes to spread out on the bristly carpeting but Koch tossed her a car blanket he located somewhere. The goon girl thanked him by engulfing half of his member and noisily sucking the engorged flesh for thirty seconds.

"Remember, Wolfgang, save it for later," Erika smiled, "I don't want you to have a dishonorable discharge." 

She returned then to the gaping mouth Monika presented with her gorgeous bottom wagging around in the air as she knelt over the baroness' crotch. She lifted up to laugh at Erika's joke before the colonel grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back into place.

In the front seat Trommler thought he'd go out of his mind.

In the back Koch left the overhead light on.

TO BE CONTINUED... 



Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 03



Hex had a bad moment when the one SS officer changed seats outside the church, fearing he'd been discovered. 

After that everything went smoothly considering he clung to the back of a car driving down busy streets. But soon they left Munich behind and traveled west on a road without streetlights and sparse traffic. The situation improved since he had less chance of being seen but the Mercedes picked up frightening speed. They probably traveled at over a hundred kilometers an hour. If he fell he would doubtless be killed. The highway underneath him zoomed by at a sickening rate. He forced himself not to look down at it unwinding behind him like an ebony ribbon. 

The tires on the road made a lot of noise and the wind tore at his clothing. At least he wasn't choking anymore on exhaust fumes like he had before they got out of town. He concentrated on holding on. When the infrequent car did appear behind he ducked his head inside the trenchcoat. Since his clothes were black he was almost invisible. Nobody noticed him as Munich disappeared farther and farther in the distance.

Where on earth could they be going? With any luck it would be some secluded hideout in the middle of nowhere offering him a range of different options to choose from once they arrived. Bad luck would be a Nazi stronghold crawling with stormtroopers. He wished he could hear what the passengers said, it might give him an idea where they were bound. No such luck and he tried not to let the suspense unnerve him along with the many other dangers surrounding him.

In a little while he noticed a light had come on inside the car. Knowing under those circumstances he would be able to see in through the rear window but the occupants could not see out made him bold enough to risk peeking into the interior of the Mercedes. What he witnessed almost caused him to take a fatal tumble.

A nearly naked Monika leaned forward into the seat in front of her while von Schitt eased her panties down, spread her buttocks apart and put her face in between them. The SS man held a camera taking pictures as the goon girl watched the antics with glee. Hex had another bad moment when the colonel produced a straight razor from somewhere but later when he saw Monika's freshly shaven pubes he realized what the Nazi bitch had done. All manner of lesbian activity got photographed during the drive and, from what Hex deduced, Monika willingly participated. Eventually the brown shirted girl stripped and took the Gestapo officer's stout member in hand, then briefly into her mouth. Afterwards the colonel and she retired to the floorboard of the car with Monika sandwiched in the middle of them.

Hex wanted to turn his head away but to his chagrin was unable to keep from watching, fascinated with what the naked women did to each other. He felt ashamed that he wanted to be part of the proceedings. As much as he wanted to put a stake through the heart of Frau von Schitt, leader of the Vampire Korps, he had to admit she had a fantastic figure and looked stunning, especially unclad. The longhaired goon girl was much more lovely than her commander. But neither could compare to the incredible beauty of Monika Fuchsmach. No wonder she starred in films. 

He knew her as Tobias Rothschild's 19-year-old inamorata, one of many mistresses Rothschild kept separate from his wife and family. Hex had seen only one of Monika's films and thought it nothing special. Rothschild, a banker, underwrote Hex's vampire hunting organization, the money from his coffers allowed Hex to travel internationally and destroy vampires wherever he found them. Such wealth attracted plenty of recruits for Hex's Raven Cadre, among them famous people like Odell Yell. How or why Monika Fuchsmach's manager got her involved with Yell, or this affair with vampires, Hex could not fathom. If Rothschild knew, he never explained. He signed the checks and his friend the Prime Minister of England, as well as President Roosevelt in the United States, provided Hex enough diplomatic immunity to get out of many tight legal scrapes in Europe and abroad. 

A month ago Hex had been jailed in Fort Worth for slaying a well-known vampire businessman responsible for the murders of over a hundred Texans. But after forty-eight hours behind bars the jail doors swung open and a hard-bitten Texas sheriff grudgingly let Hex go free. A similar problem cropped up on the docks in Liverpool last year, but the PM got on the telephone to demand his release. 

And now Rothschild's slip of a mistress drunkenly consorted with Gestapo agents with Hex powerless to intervene for the time being. He'd do his best to win the girl's freedom. But what would he say when he made his report to Rothschild? 

Also confounding Hex was he was an unwitting voyeur, and an aroused voyeur at that! 

Now through the window he saw von Schitt take the camera from the SS officer and begin taking pictures as he approached Monika with his endowment preceding him. She knelt on the floorboard before him and he grasped her, both hands in her tangled hair. Smiling, she kissed around the purple tip of him before he plunged himself into her mouth. Holding her head in place he rocked his hips back and forth, sliding into the back of her throat. Monika sucked his tumescence like candy, accepting it more deeply than had the goon girl, until his pubic hair tickled against her lips. The man pulled completely out of her mouth, coated with saliva, strings of spit dangled from her lips connected to his prodigious length like a rope bridge. The man spoke and Monika laughed before he embedded himself to the hilt again, mashing her face against his stomach until the bulb in the camera flashed. When he withdrew an unexpected jet of semen spurted from him into her mouth. Hex noticed the muscles of her throat contracting when she swallowed. Several more squirts splattered her breasts until the final surge painted a white mustache under her nose. Her tongue roamed her upper lip to taste the viscous mass as it oozed down. Decorated with pearl colored spatters Monika smiled into the lens as von Schitt snapped another picture. 

Then the man patted the seat in back that faced Hex. Monika hopped onto it on her hands and knees, breasts shaking, wiggling her buttocks in invitation, tongue licking at the fluid clinging to her face. The man squeezed each half of her saucy bottom and spread the cheeks wide. He inserted himself between her lips and thrust repeatedly inside her. Her face suffused with pleasure and Hex detected her cries of joy outside the car.

While the SS major pounded against her hips mercilessly he wiped at her face with a finger that Monika sucked clean. Her breasts wobbled with every mighty stroke and her buttocks jiggled with the intensity of his movements. He had one of his thumbs sunk all the way into the socket between her cheeks.

The goon girl spoke to him and he slid out of Monika's wet depths in exchange for putting himself deeply inside the other girl's mouth. She squeezed the sack at the base of his manliness. Monika wrinkled her face and mouthed some complaint to the SS officer. The goon girl pulled her head back, grasped him in her hand. She indicated the thumb he had in Monika's bottom. When he removed his thumb the goon girl guided the end of his length to that wrinkled muscle. By applying pressure his plum-shaped tip breached it and disappeared into her body. Monika opened her mouth in a surprised gasp but nevertheless she pressed herself back steadily by degrees until impaled to her satisfaction.

The colonel took another photo and Hex turned his head away in shame. He wished he could cover his ears so he wouldn't hear the Fraulein excitedly urging the man onward. The indignities heaped upon Monika were Hex's fault, like the deaths of Hoffner and Yell. He ground his teeth bitterly in despair, clenched his eyes shut. Was it worth this to finally get Ingrid von Schitt in the sights of his gun? His mind returned to the haphazard scheme he formulated at the church: he'd break the glass out in the back window with the barrel of the .45 and draw a bead on the baroness, then her vampire companion, saving the SS thug for last. The plan was doomed from the beginning. The driver would surely swerve the car the second he opened fire and Hex might inadvertently shoot the very girl he wanted desperately to save, or be thrown from the bumper and be unable to accomplish anything, a mass of broken bones and mangled bloody flesh.

Then the Mercedes began to slow. Hex opened his eyes, to the right a coniferous forest stretched to the horizon. They swung off the road and the car clattered up a dirt path cutting through the timberland. Encountering a hole or a rough patch of ground the front tires bounced into the air causing violent vibrations in the rear end. Hex lost his footing. He hugged at the spare tire holder in a feeble attempt to hold on but the heels of his shoes already dragged the ground. Hauling himself up caused the muscles in his arms to ache, but he managed to get his right hip situated on the bumper. He lifted his left foot off the terrain as the car shuddered to a stop. 

Dropping face down in the dirt he slithered underneath the vehicle. He had the choice of hiding among the trees on either side of the path but if the driver accelerated off again he'd never catch the Mercedes. This way he remained on the path and out of casual sight. If someone ventured a look under the car Hex would shoot to kill. He hoped no one inspected for a damaged oil pan or if a tire had blown.

The left rear car door opened spilling light but no one got out. Hex eased his grip on the .45 not wanting to tense up and spoil his shot if compelled to make one. He only had one to make before all the passengers knew something was amiss. 

Von Schitt's voice: "Damn it, Trommler, this is a forest trail not a fucking race track, we're not going to a fire, for God's sake."

The driver Trommler said something indistinct. Hex glanced at all four tires, none of them flat, no feet appeared yet. He strained his ears to hear. On his left hand side a pair of jackboots stepped onto the path, the toes pointed back down the way they'd driven. 

The man from the back seat was saying: "I've got have a piss, if you don't mind, colonel." 

Hex wished the fellow would move away from the car so he didn't get rained on.

Monika giggled from inside, "I need to pee too."

The SS officer volunteered, "I'll go with her, kill two birds with one stone, make sure the big bad wolf doesn't eat her."

The right rear door opened then and the baroness remarked, "You're a sick man, Koch, go take care of your business over on that side of the forest. The ladies will use this side. We like our privacy. If you were a gentleman you'd bloody well know."

Pebbles crunched under Koch's boots, under his breath Hex overheard him mutter: "Gentleman indeed, as if she's a fucking lady."

On Hex's right he recognized the low-heeled shoes Monika wore scampering into the woods ahead of two pairs of bare feet that moved more carefully in her wake, picking their way through the rocks and pine cones.

"Don't get any crazy ideas about running off, Monika," called von Schitt behind her, "there's supposed to be wolves out here."

"I'm not, Ingrid, I really have to go."

She'd no sooner finished speaking when the driver killed the ignition and his door opened, more light pooled on the ground. His jackboots rounded the front of the Mercedes toward the woods in the direction Koch had taken. Not a one of them closed the door after emerging from the car. With the light between Hex and the colonel he couldn't see well enough to trigger an accurate shot. 

The hot engine block cracked once, startling him. The drone of crickets chirping came in the stillness undisturbed by the idling car. He could hear the two SS officers conversing, the women had retreated deeper into the woods than they.

Trommler complained, "You lucky swine, you got to screw her. Me, I'm going to have piss straight into the air."

Koch laughed, "Stand clear of me when you do, you bastard."

"I don't understand that woman. I fetched the camera, and the extras, but you get to take the pictures and I get to drive the bus."

"You'll get your turn, Sieg, von Schitt said so, when we get to the cabin or whatever the hell."

"Was Monika good? She damned well sounded like it."

"What do you think, man? I never spent so hard in my life!"

"All I can say, Wolfgang, is I better well be next in line."

With everyone away from the car Hex thought about jumping in the driver's seat and taking off. He could leave them in the forest, drive a ways up the trail and circle back on foot. Two reasons quashed that idea: they'd be on the alert knowing an enemy stole their transportation; and Monika would be in more danger than ever as a hostage, von Schitt would use her as a shield instead of a plaything. Plunging into the forest after the women now would result in the same stalemate, they might be naked and he armed but the vampire colonel would sink her fangs into Monika's soft white throat the instant he appeared or she suspected treachery.

The jackboots returned first. With luck he wasn't lit up like a Christmas tree underneath the car for all to see. The men went to the driver's door, one of them suggesting they have a cigarette. A lighter clicked, one pair of boots stayed still, the other shuffled and paced.

"Wolfgang, why don't you volunteer to drive the rest of the way?"

"I don't mind but the colonel might have other ideas."

"Why don't you suggest it? The colonel likes you more than she does me. Why, I don't know."

"It's all right by me, Sieg, I could stand a little cooling off. But if she says no I'm not arguing with her."

"Of course not, you don't have a case of blue balls the size of Nueschwanstein castle either."

"Ssh, there they are."

Hex heard them too. Monika appeared ahead of the vampire women from the trees, probably because she wore shoes. In the light his eyes fixed on the sight of her shaven pubes, her breasts bobbing languidly whenever she took a step. She sounded drunk, giggling again. 

"Is there anything to drink at the cabin?" she asked over her shoulder.

"It's a hunting lodge, not a cabin, dear," von Schitt explained. "And it is well stocked. Liquor, food, running water."

"Can I bathe? I'm all sticky."

"Of course, darling. I insist on you freshening up before we finish what we started in the car."

Monika's made friends with them, thought Hex. What would the ramifications of that be?

"Mind if I take over behind the wheel, colonel? I promise to drive nice and slow."

"Does that mean Major Trommler will join us in the back?"

Trommler stammered, "It would be a pleasure, colonel."

"Why do you want to sit with a bunch of naked women?"

No answer. 

Monika got in the car first.

The other woman laughed at what von Schitt had said. "Why not let him have a thrill, Ingrid? Now that I can see him he's better looking than the other one. He might be fun." Then her bare feet left Hex's line of sight one by one as she climbed back into the Mercedes. The man whose jackboots had remained still got into the driver's seat. The other pair of boots walked around the car's bonnet, probably to get in the front passenger side or the rear, depending on what the baroness agreed to. 

Von Schitt paused for a protracted moment before saying, "You can keep us company back here, Siegfried."

Hex felt uneasy but the colonel stepped into the vehicle and slammed the door. The jackboots to his left disappeared one at a time and the left hand door closed too. The instant it closed Hex started sliding backward on his belly in the dirt. Along this trail the car would experience bumps and likely travel slowly, the new driver had said he'd take it easy. Hex would get back on the bumper and his additional weight to the rear end should not be noticeable to the passengers.

He hurried when the engine turned over, got his feet under him and crouched close to the spare tire. The car started but didn't move and he had ample time to holster his gun. He waited to step onto the bumper for the last leg of the journey. And he continued waiting, inhaling petrol fumes. In the back the overhead light shut off and Hex prepared for their departure. The thought entered his mind that if the car were suddenly thrown in reverse he'd be run over. He had enough clearance so he flattened on the trail again.

Car doors burst open suddenly and with them the sound of running feet. Face down he was slow drawing his gun. Why had he put it away so soon? A jackboot pinned his right hand to the ground. When he looked up the mouths of three Luger barrels were less than a meter from his head.

**********

Colonel Ingrid von Schitt snarled, "Get your hands in the air and stand, mein herr."

She lifted her boot off the back of Hex's wrist and he rose very cautiously to his feet. He couldn't help but notice she wore only her black uniform jacket and boots. Her coat hung open and part of the globes of her breasts and her bare crotch were visible. He remembered Monika's nakedness and realized she'd been sent out of the forest first on purpose, parading her nudity to provide an alluring distraction. Was she in league with them or merely an unknowing dupe? 

When had von Schitt originally spotted him lying underneath the Mercedes? In the forest? No, it had to be when she paused before getting back into the car. 

While she aimed her Luger at his face one of the SS officers' hands went quickly through his clothing. The second one held his pistol to the back of his neck while the other searched him. His .45 got confiscated from his shoulder holster first, then the wallet containing the badge, two extra clips, last a switchblade knife he carried in the outer pocket of his trenchcoat. Von Schitt ordered him to remove his shoes and socks and one of the men hurled them into the woods. Even his Fedora was snatched off his head, the silk lining and the hatband rifled, then shoved back on his head with impudent force.

"Inspekteur Kuntz, I presume?" the colonel asked, arching her eyebrows.

"You have me mixed up with someone else," Hex said coolly, more nonchalant than he felt.

Von Schitt's smiled before she sucker punched him in the gut. A female vampire is stronger than any man, even Hoffner, and her blow bent him double. He fought not to vomit, not that it mattered, showing weakness this late in the game. The jig was up, his little ruse over.

"I don't suppose either of you men have handcuffs?" she asked, her eyes never breaking contact with his.

Trommler did not speak, waiting for Koch to answer, who said: "They're not standard issue, colonel."

"Why secure him, colonel? I vote to shoot him right now and leave his body for the wolves," Trommler said.

"This man murdered or engineered the deaths of three of my troops today," von Schitt growled, more at Hex than at the major. "This son of a bitch has a lot of explaining to do before he dies a slow agonizing death. Take him to the car, I've got an alternative solution to handcuffs."

Hex kept his face impassive, putting up a brave front though never in his career had the drop been put on him so succinctly. But he'd be damned if he'd whimper for these thugs.

Koch shoved him roughly from behind. "You heard the lady. March! And keep your hands in the air."

Von Schitt got into the Mercedes first, seated herself in the corner in the back, her pistol trained on Hex. He climbed in next and sat in the corner diagonally opposite the colonel. Trommler got in last and shut the door behind him. He too sat across from Hex with his Luger aimed at him.

Hex tried not to pay any attention to the two naked women seated to his left. The blonde Vampire Korps girl held a hand over Monika's mouth to prevent an outcry, the other mashed a pistol to her temple. She sat in her lap wearing nothing but a garter belt and stockings, her nipples rigid with fear, or excitement. She avoided his eyes, Hex turned his head away too, the indentation bisecting the base of her crotch had already distracted him too many times tonight. Even though the doors had been left open he smelled the odor of intercourse, knew quite an orgy had taken place back here only minutes ago.




Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 03



"Monika, roll down your stockings and take them off," ordered the baroness. "Erika, sit beside our prisoner with your gun to his head. Koch, get this rattletrap rolling, we've got a long night ahead. Keep on this trail, it's going to get narrower as we get deeper in the forest, twenty clicks from here there's going to be hunting lodge to your right, you can't miss it, it's the only building in these woods. And my dear Inspekteur, put the palms of your hands on your knees where we can see them. One false move and you'll get a bullet in the stomach, you won't die right away but it will hurt like hell and you'll still be able to answer my questions." Everybody did exactly as she said. She'd taken off her watch when she'd undressed and had not yet put it back on. "Trommler, what time is it?"

"Just shy of 2300 hours, colonel," he said briskly.

"Monika, sweetheart, now that you've got those stockings off hand them to me. Erika, let's trade places now, bring the girl with you."

Von Schitt sat down beside Hex, the silk stockings in one hand, her Luger in the other. She handed the gun over to Trommler who aimed both weapons at Hex.

"Cross your hands behind your back," she told him. He did so while she wound one of the stockings tightly around his wrists a dozen times before tying it in a knot. She flipped the other one to Trommler. "Now cross your ankles while Siegfried secures them."

The man passed the colonel's gun back to her and holstered his before knotting the silk around Hex's ankles. Von Schitt got back in her corner and pulled on the rest of her uniform. Erika picked up her cue and also began dressing. When Monika reached down for her blouse and skirt and panties the colonel coughed threateningly. She froze and sat stock still, eyes in her lap, arms crossed, thighs pressed together. 

All four of them sat in the seat across from him now. Hex sat by himself staring out the back window he'd been on the other side of for the last hour.

"Monika!" barked the colonel so suddenly she jumped. "Do you know the man in the hat?"

The actress did not speak. Her eyes began to glaze over like they had on the steps of St. Paul's Church.

"Not in a talkative mood now after all hard loving, eh?" smiled von Schitt. "That's fine, I'll put my question to Ryan. Your name is Ryan, isn't it, not Inspekteur Kuntz?"

Hex ignored her.

Erika commented to no one in particular, "That's what he told me his name was when we met. After Astrid was killed."

Out of the blue Trommler struck Hex across his jaw. His head slammed the seat cushion behind him. He sat back up like nothing had happened, his face still impassive, his head high with dignity. 

Von Schitt reached across Monika and Erika to put a hand on Trommler's forearm to stop him when he pulled his fist back a second time. "That's not necessary, major, if Ryan doesn't feel like talking that's his prerogative." 

"I'll make him talk," Trommler said menacingly.

"As I said, unnecessary. Perhaps a nice close look at Monika's goodies will loosen his tongue. Monika, honey, it's crowded with the four of us on this seat. I want you to stand as best you can in this car with your back to Inspekteur Kuntz, so he can live up to his namesake," the colonel chuckled, her tone sarcastic. "That's a good girl, we all know what a docile good girl you are. Feet apart. Now push your arse right into his face so he can inspect your cunt. I love a good joke, mein herr, you are a witty man."

Hex felt Monika's wetness touching his skin and smelled the natural perfume of her moist flesh. In spite of knowing what she'd been doing previously, the sight and scent of her excited him.

How could he feel like that at a time like this?

"Good job, Monika. Bend forward and support yourself against the car seat with your hands on each side of Siegfried's legs. He has something to put in your untalkative mouth. Or am I mistaken, major?"

"No, colonel, you are absolutely correct," Trommler smiled with delight and unzipped his trousers. 

What sprang from his fly accidentally slapped against Monika's nose and her head jerked back involuntarily. Erika and von Schitt laughed uproariously.

When the colonel's mirth subsided she informed Trommler: "The journey to the lodge is maybe twenty more minutes. Place your hands on her head and make her do the same favor for you she did for your friend Wolfgang. You owe it to yourself."

He started moving Monika's head up and down rapidly over his lap. Almost immediately saliva drooled out of her mouth onto his jodhpurs. The colonel advised her she'd better not soil his uniform or she'd whip the skin off her buttocks with a riding crop when they arrived at their destination.

"That means swallow if you must, Monika: spit, sperm, bile, your pride, but do not disrespect the Gestapo uniform. There, see how polite she is, Erika? Guess her mother taught her not to talk with her mouth full."

The goon girl cackled. "You are in rare form tonight, Ingrid."

Von Schitt called out, "What did Herr Himmler tell us this night would be known as, Major Koch? I'd ask Major Trommler but the poor boy has his hands full."

"I believe he said the Night of the Long Dicks, colonel."

Erika laughed again when Ingrid mentioned she wasn't the only one in rare form that evening. 

Just another one of von Schitt's sycophants in her Vampire Korps, thought Hex, laughing at all her jokes. He didn't have a sense of humor just then; didn't have much time with the grim final act scheduled to play out in a very few minutes at the lodge; didn't know if Monika would help him if she got the chance. She had told the colonel his first name Ryan somewhere along the way, but von Schitt apparently had not made the association he was Ryan Hex, a name known and feared in vampire circles. 

If she knew she'd have killed him right away and not taken any chances.

Erika said, "It appears Monika is becoming more enthusiastic the more she applies herself to her task, colonel."

"I agree."

Inwardly Hex agreed too. As close as he was to the actress he couldn't help notice the increase of her arousal as she stimulated Trommler. Hex angled his head to one side attempting to keep his face against her left buttock and not in the very source of her renewed excitement. Trommler moaned, a signal telling Hex that the man's big moment was near. His moan changed to a cry and the sound of Monika's suction changed to a repeated gulping. She'd begun to move more unsteadily along with Trommler causing Hex to turn his face to the side. He thought he could away with it since he was hidden by Monika's bottom.

When he turned his head Hex glimpsed the straight razor only a few centimeters from his bound hands. Various items littered the back of the Mercedes besides the shaving kit: articles of clothing, a wine bottle, the camera and discarded flash bulbs. The razor lay forgotten in the crevice between the seat cushion and the back of the seat. He'd never get free of his bonds without a blade of some sort. But how could he reach it and not get shot sooner rather than later?

Monika answered the question for him by rearing back from Trommler's frenzied movement. Hex chose that moment to affect rolling away as if to avoid her. The three Nazis opposite Hex were paying more attention to Monika than to him. After his wrists and ankles had been tied Erika and Trommler put away their guns, only the baroness still held her Luger but it was no longer aimed at him, just pointed his way. Falling on his side on the seat, his fingers sought the razor. He misjudged where it lay so he moved his arms up and down behind him pretending to be trying to sit upright.

Von Schitt disparaged him. "What are you, a prude? I don't know a man who'd deliberately avoid having Monika Fuchsmach grind her most intimate body parts against him."

Hex maintained his policy of ignoring her.

Erika suggested, "Maybe he's not a real man, maybe he's a queer."

The baroness wore a crooked smile. "There's only one way to be certain, my dear. Why don't you examine the facts firsthand."

Erika leered, "If you insist. I don't mind doing a little dirty work."

The goon girl changed seats in order to be close enough to cup him through his trousers. "Oh my, guess I was I wrong about him."

Von Schitt asked Erika, "You're not joking, are you? Well, that figures, men will be men."

"And the Inspekteur is a man among men, if you know what I mean."

"Too bad he's not going to get to use it. Sit him back up, will you." 

Erika snatched him by the lapels of his trenchcoat and jerked him back in a sitting position. By then Hex had the straight razor in his left fist.

"Thank you," he said amiably to her, "I was having a spot of trouble righting myself."

His words earned him a backhanded slap across the mouth, which hurt though not as much as Trommler punching him in the face. Trommler at the moment was in no shape to move, his breathing labored and his eyes shut. In the meantime Monika had stumbled back into the seat beside Hex without his body in the way to block her fall. After Erika had got Hex seated again he noticed his lip bled, she noticed too. Fortunately for Hex she hadn't struck him with the full force of her strength or she would have broken his neck. He still bled though. 

Monika leaned forward spitting up on the floorboard. That bought her some abuse but diverted attention away from Hex.

Erika found Monika's predicament amusing. "I'd've thought a seasoned nymphomaniac like yourself would have been able to manage."

The baroness had reacted by slapping Monika across the face, not as roughly as Erika backhanding Hex. Von Schitt grabbed her blonde hair, pulled her off the seat and hauled her across her lap. The interior of the car rang as she paddled Monika with flat of her hand. "You can't say you weren't warned, you slut."

She accepted her punishment without protest. Had Monika thrashed around von Schitt might have smacked her arse longer.

The colonel glanced at Trommler's lap and nudged Monika toward him. "It appears Siegfried still has some starch left in him, you're going to sit in his lap for the remainder of the journey. Sit looking at Ryan so he can see your face while you're getting it."

Monika gestured at the corked bottle of wine lying forgotten on the seat by von Schitt. "May I have a drink please?"

Erika sniped, "You've already had something to drink. Sit!"

Trommler guided her carefully until she was poised exactly where he wanted. "You can be seated now, Fraulein," he said, groping her breasts.

Monika sank easily and completely into his lap since what she'd just finished doing to him caused her to be well lubricated. Trommler began lunging his hips and instructing her: "Bounce up and down, imagine you're riding a pony. Faster."

Hex put their activities out of his mind in order to think. Now that he had the razor he could hardly start sawing away. He didn't know if he'd actually be able to cut his fetters with his hands tied behind him. First things first, he had to somehow hide the blade on his person. If he held it in his hand it would be discovered if they checked his bonds and they surely would look periodically to see he was still tightly secured. If he hadn't had on a trenchcoat it would simply be a matter of shoving it in his back pocket. They'd thoroughly searched him once, he doubted they'd frisk him again. If they noticed the straight razor missing they definitely would. It would fall out of his sleeve if he tucked it under the cuff. While he thought he experimented, he might not be able to open the damn thing but despite his tied hands he opened and closed it with ease with his fingers. 

Hex sifted through ideas in his mind for a feasible place to stash it so he could get at it quickly, if and when he had the opportunity.

Then he remembered he wore a strap watch on his left wrist. If he slid the straight razor between his skin and the band of the watch it would be hidden even if they checked his bonds, not fall out of his sleeve at the wrong moment and remained readily accessible. One problem solved, but he had more than one. What would he be able to do if he did get free? The razor was a weapon for one thing though his enemies had guns. 

He still felt better having it than not.

Erika watched his lip continue to drip blood. Hex noticed her watching and returned to his thoughts.

Would he be able to cut himself loose? With his wrists bound together it would be awkward at best. He practiced how it could be done when the chance presented itself. His fingers were mobile enough to accomplish it. He devised and mastered a vertical cutting pattern that should slice through the sheer stocking. Once he got started he'd need about a minute. He expected to cut himself in the process but that was a small price to pay. 

The next order of business was stretching the silk to loosen it as much as possible. Not much success. The man had wound it too tightly but he stretched at it anyway, frequently clenching and unclenching his fists to aid the circulation. 

Remember your feet, he thought, flex your toes constantly, it would be a pity to get free and not be able to stand.

While Hex plotted and schemed he'd tuned out what went on around him. Monika, on the other hand, had been unable to tune out her feelings, more physical than cerebral, unable to deny the steady friction or control the inevitable sensations that Trommler stirred up inside her. She fretted, flesh quivering and blotchy, she began to pant and groan louder and louder. 

Monika's performance was impossible to ignore.

Erika observed her having fun, seemed envious and once more her eyes settled on the blood streaming down Hex's chin. He'd made no complaint or any move to wipe his face on his coat. 

The goon girl commented to the colonel, "That blood is making me thirsty."

Her leader smiled. "If you want my permission you have it. Help yourself, don't let perfectly good blood go to waste, Erika." 

Erika opened the front of the trenchcoat and spread it out of her way before straddling Hex's legs. After giving him coy look and a half-smile she brought her face very close to his like she intended to kiss him, the tip of her tongue dabbed at his split lip. Then she sucked at the small wound, sighed, licked the blood from his chin, and lower, where it left a thin red trail on the side of his neck. He felt her tongue inside his shirt collar seeking out every last drop.

"Don't be concerned, I'm not going to bite you." Erika shifted position having devoured her snack, tore at the buttons of her brown shirt and brushed her breasts against his mouth. She whispered, her voice husky, "But I don't mind if you bite me."

Hex groaned into a stiff nipple when she commenced grinding her lap against his, consciously imitating Monika in the other seat. Hex discerned her heat through both her jodhpurs and his trousers. Erika groaned too. She must've had a fetish about undoing men's pants because before Hex knew it she did the same to him as she had done to Koch earlier. She squeezed a possessive hand around him.

"Naughty, naughty, Erika," said von Schitt not unpleasantly.

"I didn't want his blood to go to waste, and I beg you please to reconsider not letting this go to waste either." Erika showed the colonel what she meant.

"My God, that would be wasteful," said the baroness, "but I don't want you aiding and comforting the enemy. He does not deserve pleasure."

Erika whined, "But Monika's been getting pleasured since she got in the car." Since before she got in the car, but the goon girl knew better than to mention it. 

"He's an Englishman, she's German, there's a difference."

"I know, but you know I like a man every now and then. I only had Wolfgang for a minute, now Monika's getting Siegfried too."

Von Schitt relented, "I can imagine how hot and bothered you are. You've tasted blood too."

"Now I want to taste something else."

"Have your fun then, Erika."

She immediately let go of Hex and pushed her jodhpurs down with her panties inside them. He feared she'd undress him too but she gripped him in hand again, sinking gratefully onto his bloated length with her back to him like Monika had Trommler. Her moist velvet tightness felt divine as she used him. He'd never had love made to him by a vampire before, but her energy, eagerness and expertise chased away any discrimination he may have harbored. Erika wasn't as verbal as Monika but from the way her breathing grew ragged he knew she was enjoying herself just as much.

Hex panicked when she asked von Schitt: "Can I untie him?"

"No! You seem to be doing just fine as is."

"Don't just sit there," Erika scolded Hex, "move with me." 

A plethora of disjointed thoughts whirled through his mind: he hoped all his pushing wouldn't dislodge the straight razor from his watchband; when rape is inevitable, relax and enjoy it; Yell and Hoffner; and he noted his lip had stopped bleeding. Finally Hex's own building pleasure melted all thought away. 

Meanwhile Monika had ceased bouncing up and down over the major's lap and now ground herself against him.

"Oh my god!" she cried out, "Oh, oh!"

In his fading bliss Hex wondered if Monika was insatiable.

Trommler appeared not to care.

The Mercedes came to a halt.

Koch put an elbow over the front seat and announced, "Well, folks, we have arrived."

Erika moaned deliriously, "We certainly have."

**********

Once out of the car the colonel said, "Monika, come with me. You men handle the other prisoner. Erika, you bring the photo gear."

Hex watched nervously when she reached for the camera bag. 

She set the camera inside it, ignoring Monika's clothing, the wine bottle, a blanket wadded up on the floorboard and the scattered contents of the shaving kit. Von Schitt escorted Monika, stumbling either from drink or an overabundance of physical affection, to the porch of the hunting lodge. Erika followed after them; she hadn't said a word to Hex after she'd used him. The majors lingered behind, deciding how to transport the immobilized man. 

He suggested to them, "If you cut the binding around my feet I'll be able to walk in. I can't hardly run away barefoot, not in this terrain."

Trommler looked over at Koch, who stood outside the car. "His hands'll still be tied. What do you think?"

Koch asked, "Did you check his bonds?"

"Just now, he's still trussed like a Christmas goose."

"Maybe we ought to just carry him in."

"I'm not lugging this bastard in, he can walk. I've got that hunting knife I took from the big man in the parking area. I can cut his feet loose, we'll tie them back once he's inside."

"You're risking another ass chewing."

"So what, it wouldn't be the first one. I'm fucking exhausted." 

Trommler unsheathed Hoffner's knife and sliced through the stocking, cutting one of Hex's ankles when he did. Hex made no complaint.

When he stepped out of the car he saw the hunting lodge for the first time. He expected a single room log cabin in the woods outfitted for hunters judging from what the others said about it in passing. Instead a rustic dwelling with a chimney rose before them, the exterior built of rough hewn timber, two stories high and obviously constructed at no small cost in a clearing wedged amid the trees of the dense surrounding forest. No flags with swastikas fluttered above a driveway full of staff cars or Nazi guards stood watch with machine guns slung over their shoulders demanding passwords, which pleased Hex. The colonel needed a private hideaway to conduct her sadistic business and she had a perfect one faraway from curious eyes. Light began to shine through the windows on the first floor as switches got flipped on downstairs. 

Trommler started poking around the back seat and Hex's heart skipped a beat, thinking he was getting his shaving things.




Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 03



Koch said, "Hurry up, let's get inside. What are you doing?"

"I want Monika Fuchsmach's panties for a souvenir."

Koch smirked. "You trot those out in the officers mess and everybody will accuse you of wearing them. Anyway we've got photographs as a souvenir, Siegfried, I took some great shots. Nobody will be able to deny that's the real Monika Fuchsmach naked."

"And acting like a real whore. You were absolutely right, she was worth the wait."

"I'm always right. I'll bet there's lots more fun and games yet, it's not even midnight." He produced Hex's .45 from his jacket pocket to show his friend. "Now here's a souvenir, Siegfried, a chrome-plated Colt automatic from the United States." He asked Hex, "By the way, Erika gave you quite a going over. How was she?"

He'd endured worse sacrifices for his cause. Hex grunted, "Nice." 

"It was nice of her to zip your trousers back since your hands are tied, neither one of us could have helped you there." Koch gestured at him with the .45 and chuckled, "If you can still walk now's the time to do it."

As they neared the porch shouting and screams came from inside the lodge. Trommler hurried ahead of them and entered. Hex walked quickly too when he heard Monika's cries of pain. 

The colonel was the one doing the shouting. "You best keep still, you tramp! Erika, hold her hands down." 

Through the open door a sharp crack sounded, like a small caliber pistol. 

"Ow!" Monika screamed, "Stop!"

"What the hell?" said Koch, jabbing Hex in the back with the gun to rush him along.

Hex needed no urging. When he got to the entrance he saw a big front room with a staircase, antlers mounted on the paneling, furnished with mahogany tables along the walls and several easy chairs and a couch arranged in front of the fireplace. Von Schitt had a struggling Monika bent over the arm of a chair lashing her bottom with a riding crop. Two or three welts crisscrossed her squirming cheeks. With her strength Erika had no problem keeping her hands from interfering with the whipping. Monika's legs kicked and threshed so frantically however von Schitt couldn't control them and wield the switch at the same time, supernaturally strong or not.

Trommler went over to assist when the colonel beckoned with an angry jerk of her head. 

"You want me to hold her ankles?" he asked.

"If you please," she said as if addressing a child.

Koch pushed Hex into an easy chair, but instead of standing behind him with the .45 to the back of his head, he stood beside him. In the excitement Koch postponed or forgot about retying Hex's feet together. Von Schitt was too involved with Monika to notice Hex had walked into the room under his own power. 

Trommler got on his knees and managed to get a hand on each of Monika's ankles. He effortlessly held her legs still but found his head in the path of the riding crop. Von Schitt got in another lash or two but Monika still fought. 

"This is too damned awkward," the colonel bitched, "Get out of the way, Trommler. Find something to tie the girl's ankles with!" 

Koch didn't leave Hex's side but watched the proceedings with interest. He occasionally gave Hex a sideways glance, the .45 still in his hand. Trommler located a spool of twine on top of a nearby table. He rushed back to the colonel, held out the spool.

She didn't take it. "What am I supposed to do, bite pieces of it off?"

"I have a knife, colonel."

"Good," she said, "then start cutting some lengths."

Erika said, "I think this would work out better if we put her face down over the back of the chair instead of the arm. We can tie her hands and feet to each leg of the chair."

"Good idea. Cut two pieces for me, Siegfried, then hold the little slut's hands still while Erika and I fasten her feet down."

When Trommler finished cutting the twine von Schitt took the two lengths from him, gave one to Erika. They knelt out of Hex's sight behind the chair. "I'm not going to tell you to hold still again," he heard the baroness say to Monika. She ceased thrashing about.

"Sieg, toss me the twine" Koch said.

He pitched the spool underhanded across to Koch and asked, "You need the knife?"

"No, I have the Inspekteur's switchblade." 

Koch set the twine on the arm of the chair in which Hex sat, put his hand in his pocket for his knife. He flicked open the blade and absent-mindedly set the .45 on the arm of the chair where he'd placed the spool. He cut a length and dropped the spool on the floor, bent over Hex's feet.

He said, "Be so kind as to cross your ankles." 

When he started to cut a length of twine was the moment Hex finished cutting through the stocking with the straight razor. No one had their eyes on him temporarily, all their attention focused elsewhere. Hex reached for the pistol with plenty of time. With one finger he spun it around on the arm of the chair in order to grasp the gun butt. It would have to be a left-handed shot but at point blank range that made no difference. 

Koch had murdered Hoffner and abused Monika before his eyes so Hex had no compunction shooting him in cold blood. Had that not been the case he still would have killed the man to escape the clutches of von Schitt and her crew.

Koch said, "Would you keep your damn feet together." 

They were to be the young major's last words. He glanced at Hex and saw the .45 pointed at him. His face went white and Hex could see the fear written in his eyes before he fired a shot through the man's forehead. The large bore bullet knocked him violently backward. Koch lay on his back with his forelegs under his body, the back of his head sprayed all over the floor.

Hex had his every next move planned out mentally beforehand. He shifted the pistol to his right hand as he leapt to his feet. The roar of the gun froze everybody in the room. Trommler twisted his head around and saw him armed and free. His jaw dropped and his hand darted toward his holstered Luger.

Von Schitt yelled from behind the chair, "What the hell are you doing, Koch?"

Monika saw Hex standing over the grisly corpse. She let out a bloodcurdling scream. Without hesitation Hex punctuated Monika's shriek with a second shot that struck Trommler in the chest. He pitched to the floor, hands pawing impotently at his wound. Erika jumped up before von Schitt because she'd been the first of them to start securing Monika's ankles. Hex already had the pistol up, readying his next shot. Erika should have gone flat on the floor, but maybe like von Schitt she concluded Koch was the one doing all the shooting. She had no reason to think the captive slipped his bonds and got loose.

Foolishly she exposed her position and now stood in a line of fire.

Since he and she were separated by a distance of four meters Erika knew she didn't have time to reach him. She had no choice except trying to shoot him. Before she could draw her pistol Hex's spoke a third time. A red dot appeared between her breasts and Hex knew he'd gotten her through the heart. Her vampire strength precluded her being knocked down. Discharging a .45 indoors produces a racket akin to an explosion. Before the echoing wave of noise dispersed the goon girl had time to gaze down in disbelief at her chest and look back at her killer. Erika took a couple of faltering steps before slumping lifeless behind the chair, the silver round having done its work.

Baroness Ingrid von Schitt, commanding colonel of the Vampire Korps, witnessed one of her own goon girls slain on the field of battle. 

Desperately she shouted to Hex, "I've got the barrel of my gun stuck up this bitch's arse. She's dead meat if you don't drop your weapon. I better hear it hit the ground now, you motherfucker!"

Her words bordered on hysteria. 

The stench of cordite and the coppery smell of viscera hung in the air of the room. Monika wept pitifully. Hex's bare feet made no sound on the hardwood floor as he used the various pieces of furniture scattered near the fireplace as cover. He edged around until he could see von Schitt. 

Indeed she had her Luger where she'd claimed.

She saw his gun confidently, unflinchingly aimed at her head. The baroness knew the man doing the shooting to be a crack shot to drop three trained, armed Nazi soldiers with as many rounds, knew that pistol held silver loads capable of killing vampires, knew a .45 clip held seven cartridges, eight if he had one jacked in the pipe. 

And the son of a bitch had at least four more chances to put her down. 

Her hysterical voice fell to a whisper, "I'll kill her, I mean it."

"I know you mean it," he said calmly.

"Then drop that gun."

"The way it works is if you shoot the girl, I shoot you."

"Are you telling me she doesn't mean anything to you?"

"I'm not saying that, von Schitt. What I'm saying is you're placing an awfully high value on a woman I barely know," he lied.

Monika wailed.

Hex warned, "Monika, don't make a sound if you don't want her to pull the trigger accidentally."

Von Schitt said, "He's right, you sniveling bitch, shut up."

Monika choked back one last sob and became very quiet and still. Hex thought maybe she'd fainted.

"So the girl means nothing to you?" asked von Schitt.

"I won't let you use her as a bargaining chip. But I am willing to make a deal."

Von Schitt asked suspiciously, "What kind of deal?"

"I'll let you walk away, all you have to do is leave the girl out of it. Let her live, let it be between you and me."

"Right, the second I make a move to let her out of harm's way you'll shoot me like a pig in a slaughterhouse."

"You have my word, I will point my gun at the floor when you make your move to spare Monika. Her ass alive means more to me than your ass dead." Hex recalled saying something similar to Odell Yell a few hours ago. 

"How can I take your word for anything? You just shot three people dead. You probably killed my other two girls with your bow and arrow."

"I have news for you, all four of your Vampire Korps goon girls at the Oktoberfest tonight are dead. And I only killed one of them, just now."

The colonel knew the truth when she heard it. "Who killed the other three?"

"A very brave man from south Africa by the name of Odell Yell. He gave his life killing the third one."

"Odell Yell is one of Monika's lovers," the colonel said. 

"That's not what he told me. Do you believe everything you read?"

"How did you get loose anyway?"

"You shouldn't leave straight razors lying around, baroness."

Von Schitt swore. "Who are you, mein herr?"

"My name is Ryan. I'm sure a vampire like you knows the existence of the Raven Cadre."

She gasped, "Gott in Himmel! You're Ryan Hex?"

"And you're Ingrid von Schmitt, widower of Baron Rudolph von Schmitt of Dresden and by my reckoning you're a seventy year old vampire who doesn't look a day over thirty."

"Your facts are almost correct, actually I'm only sixty four---"

"Enough talk!" Hex shouted. He tempered his voice and stated quietly, evenly, "My arm's getting tired and when my arm gets tired my trigger finger has tendency to tighten. Now if you want to live to be sixty-five then you'd best make that deal."

"When I move my gun, you point yours at the floor? 

"That's what I said."

"What if I shoot you?" 

"You take your chances and I'll take mine. Don't forget I told I'd let you walk away."

"And I said I can't take your goddamn word for it."

"I gave my word to Vladimir Tarasov. I know you know him because I saw the two of you together in Prague last December. Surely he told you he once made an arrangement with Ryan Hex. After I had him in the sights of this same pistol."

"But you staked Count Arcos in Romania afterwards."

"That was our deal. He showed me where Arcos kept the coffin he slept in."

"Then that's why I can't hypnotize you even though I'm looking you in the eye."

"Vlad divulged that particular vampire secret to me, how a mere mortal can prevent having his mind overtaken. Now I said enough chat, I'm done talking. Make your deal."

The muscles in her throat moved as she swallowed nervously. "First point your gun at the ground."

"If you kill her I will have time to aim again and then you're one dead bitch. Don't forget and do something unintelligent."

"I'm going to keep my Luger aimed at her until I'm out the front door. You shoot me and I swear I'll have to time to kill her. She's not a moving target, she's tied up."

Hex lowered his gun. "Get your rancid ass out of here."

Maintaining eye contact with him the vampire colonel removed the barrel of her pistol hesitatingly from Monika with the greatest of care, slowly, deliberately, all the while keeping it trained in the direction of her body. The baroness stood up with infinite care and stepped backward toward the front of the lodge, her eyes on Hex every centimeter of the way. 

But before von Schitt reached the door she vanished in thin air, her empty uniform falling in folds to the floor. It lay there like a heap of dirty laundry. Her Luger also fell, bouncing once on the polished wood, fortunately not discharging. 

A bat flitted about briefly about the room close to the ceiling before soaring out the door.

Hex ran onto the porch and in the light cast outside from the room saw the bat winging its way into the pines. The .45 fired. The bat swooped and was lost in the night. He raced to Monika bent over the chair, picked Hoffner's knife off the floor to sever the twine binding. She had swooned while von Schitt and he negotiated. He carried her to the couch and set her down, pinching one of her earlobes until she regained consciousness. She cried out, jerking and fighting till she saw his face.

"Ryan!" she cried, "What happened?"

"No time for that now, Monika, we need to be on our way."

She sat up, unashamed of her nakedness, eyes searching the room. "Where's Ingrid?"

"She left like a bat out of hell."

"Did you kill her?"

Hex shook his head, took her by the hand and dragged her over to the pile of clothes on the floor.

"What is this?"

"That's what's left of Ingrid von Schitt. I want you to put them on, boots and all."

"That's her uniform."

He said emphatically, "We'll talk once we're in the car, start dressing right now."

Monika reached for the blouse of the uniform. Hex closed the front door and locked it after casting glances around from the porch, scouting the forest for signs of trouble. Not a soul in sight, but the vampire colonel might return at any second. He stalked across the big room to Koch's body. Working methodically, Hex retrieved his extra ammunition from Koch's jacket and his knife where it had fallen under the easy chair. He took possession of the dead man's firearm. Then he turned the deceased's pockets inside out, hunting a Mercedes key. When he didn't find one he wheeled to search Trommler's corpse and glimpsed the straight razor on the chair cushion in his peripheral vision. He tucked it away in his trenchcoat with the switchblade and .45 clips.

"I am not wearing her underclothes," Monika stated flatly, still in shock. 

Hex doubted she'd ever seen anybody shot to death before, he wished she hadn't been put under circumstances where she did. In Trommler's jacket he found Monika's panties, wrapped them in the man's Luger and slid them across the floor to her.

"You don't have to, there's yours. Hang onto to that gun, we may need all the firepower we can get." 

When von Schitt got to a telephone she'd have Nazis swarming through the woods and all the roads leading away from them. 

Hex went through Trommler's pockets, finding nothing of value. He hoped like hell the key was still in the Mercedes' ignition. A cursory look at Monika revealed her going through the motions of dressing, like an automaton but making progress. He wrestled the jackboots from Trommler's feet and put them on. A trifle large but later he might need to tramp through some rocky ground and would regret doing it barefooted.

Finally he bent over to the body of the woman Erika who had raped him only ten minutes before he slew her. He just wanted her gun and didn't bother going through her pockets. After stowing her pistol in his trenchcoat he hustled over to Monika.

"Are you ready to move?"

"I think so," she mumbled. "Why do I have to dress like this? My clothes are in the car."

"We need to appear to be Nazis. Now here's the plan. I'm going out the door first, you stay here till I honk the car horn. When you hear it run for the car. Get in the front seat with me. Keep a gun in your hand and point it at anything that moves. You clear on the plan?"

"I think so," she repeated.

Before Hex got to the door he remembered the camera case, glanced around the room, saw it on a tabletop. As much as he hated wasting any more time he ripped the film out of every roll he found, exposing it to the light. He opened the camera and pried the metal roll from it, slung the destroyed film away from him and went to the door with his .45 back in his fist. On the porch nothing lurked to the right or left. He hurried to the Mercedes and yanked open the driver's door. When the light came on he saw the key, hopped in the seat and tapped the horn. Monika came running as he started the car and she jumped in. 

Hex regretted not having time to ransack the hunting lodge. Had he found coffins there he'd know that was von Schitt's place to sleep. A small matter, he'd be back soon with a squad of his Raven Cadre to do what was necessary. He knew where to find the place.

Monika scrambled across the seat to be as close to him as she could. Still quaking with fear she wrapped her arms around his waist tightly and tried to press her body into his as if she could meld into him and become one. Poor kid! 

Hex rammed the stickshift into gear, whipped the car smartly, tires throwing up dirt, rocks and pine cones in their wake. Then he started back down the trail.

TO BE CONTINUED...



Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 04



Except when absolutely necessary Colonel Ingrid von Schitt seldom made the conversion from a human vampire into her bat form. After transforming into a bat a few minutes ago she flew over a forest stretching kilometers in all directions. Midnight had fallen, along with all her schemes.

Himmler would be livid when he found out, but von Schitt had much to do before breaking the news. Two problems of a more immediate nature faced her: she would be naked once she changed from a bat back into human form; and she desperately had to find a telephone to marshal her troops. If she could accomplish that feat Hex and Monika might get caught in the conspicuous stolen Mercedes he drove. The secluded hunting lodge, where the recent bloodshed occurred, boasted niceties like running water and electricity but no phone service. Finding clothing became essential. A stark naked woman, even if she was a colonel of the Vampire Korps and a titled baroness, could not ask to borrow a perfect stranger's telephone without elaborate explanations she was in no mood to give. She might have flown back to the lodge in the middle of the forest, robbed the dead of their uniforms, except those were soaked in blood. Dressed in bloody garments would require as many, or more, explanations than appearing nude.

The baroness wanted to follow the Mercedes but never in her life would she be able to outfly the powerful car Hex piloted like a madman. Originally she'd tried. The forest trail leading from the lodge to the highway took approximately half an hour to reach. She hovered nearby when Hex and Monika decamped. They left less than five minutes after she made her changeover. That son of a bitch Hex had even fired a shot at her. He was an expert marksman and the silver .45 bullet he had discharged came within inches of her right wing. When he got the girl into the Mercedes they raced along the trail faster than Trommler when he initially left the road heading up to the lodge. Why should Hex care anyway if he tore the Mercedes to hell? It wasn't his car, he'd not have to account for damages to any motorpool. She wanted to follow them back down the path to see if they went west or east on the road. Maybe she could have gotten a fix on their direction at least, but Hex didn't have the slightest respect for property of the German high command. That staff car would never run right again if the Nazis recovered it!

So von Schitt flew toward the nearest village to the west of the lodge. She gambled and chose west over east because she had a hunch he would not drive back to Munich. Once she reached the village she'd have to improvise. If Hex and Monika headed west too she might encounter them again before the end of the night. Von Schitt would have more difficulty explaining to Herr Himmler she had had to abort the mission and lost some personnel rather had she accomplished it with the same loss of life. She still had a chance.

But the Obergruppenfuhrer was the least of her worries.

Personally she cared less Himmler's two majors were dead, but she held Hex accountable for the deaths of four of her goon girls, even if three of them hadn't died by his hand. Von Schitt would mourn her two lovers Astrid and Erika forever.

Finally she left the coniferous forest behind, her sense of time acute. With her wings beating furiously she knew she had little more than seven hours before the sun came up. At dawn von Schitt needed to be ensconced in her coffin to escape the light of day. 

A village came into view and when she located telephone poles she circled in the air. If she couldn't get anyone on the phone at this hour she'd have to commandeer a car. Bats don't actually possess radar but von Schitt's echolocation detected an object beside a small house toward the end of a winding lane, made her descent. She relied on her night vision, it increased exponentially when she became a bat. The village had phone service but no streetlights. Perfect! As her altitude decreased she found an ideal place to land, a tree in the yard of the house in question. From her perch on a limb she did indeed see a car parked in a little driveway. 

The occupants of the house slept however she didn't want to encounter a wide-awake dog guarding the premises. She'd get no help by killing someone's pet. The colonel's heightened senses detected no animal sleeping or roaming so she sailed down and lit on the yard, converted back into a human woman. The grass wet with dew under her feet and an unfriendly chill in the nocturnal air are not discomforts to the undead. Urgency of mission sent her quickly to the front door upon which she beat frantically.

"Help, somebody please help me," she cried out.

Ordinarily she would have ripped the damned thing off its hinges and entered and slain anyone who got in her way taking what she wanted. And Himmler ordinarily didn't object to the Gestapo kicking down doors and brutalizing citizens. But von Schitt knew her goon squads fell under a different category of the SS; Himmler preferred the Vampire Korps maintain a lower profile and had intimated as much to her in Munich, especially concerning this occasion. If the tawdry mission failed she was to hush it up. She couldn't claim mission accomplished since Hex chased her off under threat of death. Had she possession of the film taken of Monika (a cunning man like Hex would've destroyed it by now) she'd report in all honesty a successful conclusion, give or take a few lives. 

So von Schitt deemed it best to take the long way around, a soft entry. She cried out again for help. A light came on in a front window after another powerful hammering on the door. By the time it budged open a crack she heaved with sobs.

Monika Fuchsmach wasn't the only girl who could act. 

"Please help me, I've been raped and left on the roadside."

The door opened completely. An ancient man stood in the doorway clutching an ancient revolver. How quaint, thought von Schitt, that hunk of iron pre-dates the Great War. The colonel made an effort to conceal her nakedness with an arm across her large bosom and a hand over her crotch, not out of modesty but necessity. She had a tale of woe she needed to sell.

"May I come inside?" said a sobbing von Schitt.

The man stepped to his right immediately to let her in. He discarded the revolver on a desktop, as if embarrassed by it. "I am afraid of Nazis," he said apologetically.

From another room a girl asked: "Who is it, pappa?"

"Hurry and bring a robe for this poor woman, Adelheid." The man turned away as if not to shame the naked lady by staring at her. With his back to her he asked, "Frau, will you be all right? What is your name?"

"Freida, mein herr," Ingrid von Schmitt stammered. "Do you have a telephone, I must call---" she stopped herself before she said police--- "my husband."

A plump young Rhine maiden, perhaps fourteen, came into the room holding a brocaded nightgown, half-asleep until she laid eyes on the nude woman with the mannish hair in her living room. Von Schitt ignored the robe the girl held out to her, she wanted things to progress at a swifter rate. These two needed to hurry up and help her. Adelheid continued holding out her hands until von Schitt finally accepted the robe and wrapped it around her.

"Where is your telephone?" she asked them. When neither responded to her question she went hunting it herself, they lived in a small house. "Is it in your kitchen?"

"Yes, by the stove, Frau, you are welcome to use it." The old man yawned, "Forgive me, you woke me up."

"Pappa, you sounded rude."

"So I did. Frau Freida, I did not mean that the way it came out. Please make yourself at home."

Adelheid stepped into the kitchen while von Schitt dialed the operator from a wall-mounted telephone. "Would you like me to make coffee, tea? It's no trouble."

The old man echoed his daughter's words, adding, "I also can offer Schnapps, if you need it."

"Pappa!"

"No coffee, but I will have Schnapps," interjected von Schitt, waiting for an operator. 

The girl poured a glass with a reproachful look at her father, carried it to the colonel, who held up the drink and toasted him. "Danke schoen, mein herr." Father and daughter alike probably thought she gulped down an unladylike amount. She said curtly, "Can you give me some privacy?"

The two residents looked at each other in surprise. The old man recovered first, nodded and led Adelheid down a hallway, an arm across her shoulder. The colonel paid no attention to them or their whispers. She finished her Schnapps before the operator came on the line, a thin faraway voice in her ear. She eyed a clock on the wall. 0030 hours, she thought, I made good time, but doubtless Hex reached a paved road five minutes ago. 

Von Schitt hated calling a Junkerschule at this hour, no one but recruits would be available, any self-respecting commanding officer would be home in bed. But an officer candidate school might mobilize rapidly and seal the main road. If the colonel could coerce them to set up checkpoints, to get the word out, work at contacting all area SS and police groups. 

"Connect me with the local Staatspolizeistellen, operator, it is an emergency." 

A minute passed, then: "Security Services," said the bored voice of the duty officer, "this is Untersturmfuhrer Dekker."

"Dekker, I am Colonel Ingrid von Schmitt of the SS, leader of the Vampire Korps. You've heard of me?"

"Ja, mein colonel," the voice brisk now, "You are a legend in the ranks of the SS."

Von Schitt wryly thought the duty officer only knew of her infamous nickname, but said with a purr, "Good, you know my authority. This is a situation of no small importance to Herr Himmler, young man. I need your assistance fast."

"My Junkers are at your disposal, mein colonel."

"Precisely what I wanted to hear, Dekker," she intoned. "I want you watching out for any man and woman driving together, especially in a Mercedes staff car and particularly if they appear clothed in SS uniforms." For the next minute von Schitt spoke of exactly what needed to be implemented where. "I'm putting you in charge, Dekker. Wake your troops and get them out on that road, roadblocks for a hundred and fifty clicks east and west of you."

"I've but a skeleton crew, colonel, because of the weekend passes and Oktoberfest. With the men available I can set up a single checkpoint in the next five minutes, unfortunately, it will only be the one."

Better than nothing, von Schitt thought. "After your men are underway then start calling other sources, untersturmfuhrer. I need that road secured."

Dekker cleared his throat. "With all due respect, colonel, is it unfair to ask if the parties in question, in uniform in a German staff car, belong to the SS?"

"They're impersonators, think nothing of detaining them."

"I just wanted to know how delicate the situation is. May I inquire who are we trying to find, colonel?"

Spoken like a true junior officer, she replied shaking her head, "Monika Fuchsmach and a man traveling with her, Ryan Hex. Dressed like a Gestapo agent, with credentials and more than one gun. Alert your men to be wary, he's dangerous and sly."

"The actress Monika Fuchsmach?" the duty officer asked pleasantly.

The dolt hadn't heard a word she said after mentioning the Fuchsmach name. "Ja! Will your men have trouble recognizing a beautiful woman as well known as she?"

"All us Junkers will know her on sight, colonel, of that you can rest assured."

"I have no time to rest, Dekker, I'm handling an emergency for the Reich. Arrest those two if you stop them, understood? I will call back to check in, so stay by the telephone."

"Jawhol, mein colonel!"

Von Schitt rang off to dial the number of the night officer at her Vampire Korps' communications center. When she came on the line von Schitt identified herself and began issuing orders. "Take notes if you need to, Trudi, there's plenty to be done, and right now. Get in touch with Simone and Karolin and have them draw up rosters for two teams. Both of them needs to be a day squad, can't consist of any vampires. I'll use goon girls after dark. I want Simone and Karolin to meet me in an hour, scratch that, an hour and a half."

Trudi asked where. 

Where to meet, thought von Schitt, not in this dumpy house. She reeled off the name of the Junkerschule. 

"Send all the goon girls you can into the night in bat form. I want them to scouring a road going west out of Munich, they are to search for a car." She relayed the details to Trudi, including location and phone numbers.

Von Schitt hung up and took her glass over to the Schnapps bottle on the counter. The old man wandered into the kitchen, his revolver in his hand again. She could almost read his mind.

He hesitated, clumsy with his words. "Frau, you have not been raped. I let you into my home after you let me believe you were a defenseless woman, not a . . ."

"A Nazi? Go ahead and say it," von Schitt said. "What did you overhear?"

"Enough."

He advanced with the gun in front of him. She waited till he aimed it at her belly, plucked it neatly out of the doddering old fool's grasp. The pistol made a metallic crunching while she crushed it melodramatically in her fist. She set the wreckage calmly beside the Schnapps, and had another.

"I don't care what you heard, mein herr," she exhaled after the bracer. "Just be thankful I don't kill you." Her eyes blazed like blue fire. "Look closely at me."

A minute later the man sat hypnotized at the kitchen table, hands folded, staring into nowhere. In the morning he'd not remember a visitor who made a couple of phone calls. Von Schitt had no further use for him, his blood probably bitter. The daughter however would be a ripe berry, full of the sweet sweet lifeblood of a young maiden. The colonel needed to drink blood before she retired for the day. She ambled down the hall to pay Adelheid a visit.

Upon her entrance the girl sat up in her bed. Von Schitt took tentative steps into the room, robe parting around her thighs. The vampire colonel sat on the bed next to her and smoothed back a lock of hair.

"Where's pappa?" Adelheid asked, a measure of fear shining in her eyes.

"He's in the kitchen, sweetheart, having a Schnapps. Your pappa asked me to come back here and give you a goodnight kiss. Because you loaned me your robe and offered to make coffee." Von Schitt puckered up like a great aunt, "Now give Ingrid your cheek."

"You said you were Frau Freida."

"That's my second name," she nodded to reassure the girl. The baroness planted a motherly kiss on the side of Adelheid's face, lowered her mouth closer down to the neck. Von Schitt's fangs bit into the girl's jugular, and she began to feed. 

Adelheid struggled only for a moment.

**********

Junker Oskar Brandt, like Konrad Dekker and any other candidate of an SS Junkerschule, had to pass an exacting examination of his background history. Family, friends and religion weren't the only thorough checks conducted. All the officer recruits had to demonstrate they wanted to be good Nazis. The training schools valued pride and encouraged competition to breed a genuine esprit de corps.

None of which prevented or denied Oskar Brandt the right to entertain Frauleins from the villages. A man owed it to himself to pander to his hormonal urges, he rationalized, good Nazi or not. Between no weekend pass and nothing doing around the deserted school the industrious young man elected to make a few phone calls. Brandt dialed five or six numbers before he had a date.

"I'll be waiting at the back gate in ten minutes. No, don't worry, Petra, there's not a guard Friday through Sunday. I will sneak you across the barrack square, we can find a quiet place to be alone. No, we are not going to my bunk like last time." 

With the ordeal of persuasion behind him he lit a cigarette and prepared himself in a mirror over one of the sinks in the latrine. He'd always fancied himself devilishly handsome and couldn't understand how others possibly missed it. After some prodding at his short hair with his fingertips, nothing moved or changed. Running a hand over his whiskers indicated a shave. Not on a weekend, he decreed, not for Petra! Elke maybe.

He brushed his teeth with a finger, rinsed and spat. His toothbrush was in his overnight kit too far away. In his locker he'd taken great pains to hide a bottle of cheap whiskey for duty weekend consumption. The whiskey would purify his breath. Too, he'd share generously with Petra. After a detour to the lockers, he traversed walkways separating the ugly faceless buildings toward the back gate. Brandt stopped in the shadows for a fortifying drink. Since he hadn't seen a soul he strolled on with bottle in hand instead of tucked in his jacket.

Ahead lay the gate, quiet, empty. A car clattered down the lane behind the wall. Brandt heard the clattering cease and saw headlamps extinguished. He stuck his head between the bars of the gate to check the street, noted the car parked on the side of the road.

"Petra!" he called out.

A car door opened. A plump wench hurried forth to the gate, heels clicking against the pavement, long blonde braids in sharp contrast with the simple black dress she'd chosen.

The girl asked in a loud whisper, "Oskar, is that you?" 

"Over here, Petra, let's get you crawled inside the walls."

The Fraulein gave him her handbag to hold. Plump or not, she managed to squeeze through the bars of the gate. Brandt knew Petra 'dated' various officer candidates attending the school, entered this same way a couple of times before when she visited him. He kissed her passionately when she reached the other side, knowing she expected liquor, loving and a tidy pile of marks for 'groceries' in that order before departing. The Junkers knew what to expect and Petra didn't disappoint her boyfriends. Brandt and she hugged the shadows then charged across the barrack square. In a black corridor created by the sides of two buildings they paused for a sample of whiskey. 

"I have the keys to a colonel's office," he announced, "that just so happens to be unoccupied at this hour. Moonlight glows through his window, very atmospheric. In addition to the comforts of privacy we shall also have strong drink. Did I mention the wide leather couch upon which we may recline should the spirit move us?" 

He'd had Petra once on a desktop. A wonderful experience for him although she'd acted a little nonplussed. Afterward she suggested alternate love nests for future interludes.

"Really, Oskar, a couch? You're such a romantic."

In the darkness Brandt couldn't tell if she was joking and ushered her into the office before she had a change of mind. Within the space of three drinks apiece they adopted a prone position on the couch. Things rolled along nicely by Brandt's estimation until she suddenly uttered his name in mid-embrace.

"What is it?" he said in a gasp.

"Is that someone calling you?"

"You're imagining things, Petra, we're perfectly alone."

"No, Oskar, I heard someone. Listen."

Then he could hear it, footsteps and a summoning voice: "Junker Brandt. Junker Brandt!"

Petra hissed, "I told you! Who is it?" 

"It's fucking Dekker," he cursed. What the devil could he want? 

"Konrad Dekker?" Petra asked with a knowing smile. 

Brandt figured she could recite the school roll call off the top of her head considering her vast circle of acquaintances. No time for bitterness or remorse now. The Untersturmfuhrer was a classmate and should do the soldierly thing: cover for a friend. Brandt had really done nothing wrong. Drinking on duty and smuggling unauthorized personnel into the compound were trivial derelictions. Nothing for a good Nazi to take seriously.

He dismounted from Petra, zipped his fly and concealed the bottle behind the couch, tempted to ask her to hide under the desk. Knowing her dislike for desks she probably wouldn't obey his wishes. He cautioned himself to get a straight face on, go out there, talk to Dekker, pray he didn't feel like flinging around the rulebook.




Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 04



As he walked to the door Petra told him, "Baby, don't leave this room without contributing to the grocery fund." 

"But I'll be right back."

"And while you're out I'll count the marks you give me."

In his mind Brandt added blackmail to her burgeoning list of talents. But he forked over some paper money from his woefully thin bill case. He stepped outside of the office closing the door behind him. Maybe Petra could take the hint.

"Konrad, I thought I heard your voice," Brandt boomed cheerfully. "You're outside late at night shining a torch and shouting my name. What's doing?"

"Unforeseen emergency, I already have Emil Vogt parking cars to block the road in front of the school. I need you out there too."

"But why, Konrad?"

"Besides your duty officer passing along a direct order? Is that why you ask?"

"Not at all, Konrad, I was more interested in the emergency."

Dekker trudged over to the window in the colonel's office through which the romantic moonlight streamed. He asked, before flashing his beam inside, "Who've you got in there? Claudia, Elke?"

"Petra," Brandt admitted.

"Where's your bottle? Behind the couch, desk drawer?"

He grinned in resignation. "Couch."

Dekker shined his light through the window. Petra waved at him. "Brandt, hurry now and join Vogt in front of the school. You can trade Petra for Monika Fuchsmach."

"As in the actress? Did you misspeak or did I misshear?"

"You heard right, Vogt will fill in the blanks." Brandt took a reluctant step toward the main gate but Dekker said behind him: "Before you go let me collect your key to Colonel Hauptmann's office, if you don't mind. Thank you and carry on."

Before he passed out of earshot Brandt heard Dekker say: "Petra, what a nice surprise. I know it's a trifle late, but . . . "

**********

Hex raced the hijacked Mercedes down the bumpy forest trail. Monika found it uncomfortable lying on the front seat with her head in Hex's lap under the steering wheel. She'd banged it one too many times and sat up to better hold on to the edge of the front seat, at least until they got to the road. The beams of the headlamps pierced the darkness permitting her to see what loomed in the murk ahead. She braced herself better with the twists and turns illuminated before her, but the lights jumped and bounced with the car.

Monika wondered how he drove with such unerring accuracy down the unfamiliar path.

"How do you feel?" he asked her. When he conversed with her, like he had with the Gestapo agents all evening, he spoke fluently in German, which Monika thought superior to Scotty's, without any trace of a British accent.

"Better than I felt at the lodge. I still have a sore arse from that riding crop," she laughed unconvincingly. Some actress I am, she thought.

Hex said, "Things could be worse, Monika, we're not out of the woods yet."

She did laugh at his double entendre but he didn't, possibly unaware he'd said something clever but maybe not. Englishmen were known for their dry senses of humor. He slung the wheel back and forth, his left hand constantly reaching down for the gearshift. 

She lifted von Schitt's peaked cap off her mop of curls and set it on the seat. Beside the hat she noticed a pair of metal rods with material rolled around half of them. For the moment Hex drove across a smooth patch of ground and since she didn't have to hang on for dear life she idly unrolled the material.

Blood red with a black swastika in a circular white field in the center.

"Shit," she said, threw it away from her onto the floorboard.

"What was that?" he asked, eyes intent on the windscreen.

"Stupid Nazi flag. What were my countrymen thinking when they allowed Hitler to come into power?"

"There are plenty who sympathize with Hitler because of the Treaty of Versailles."

"I'm not one of them. I always pretend I'm too ill to attend his Sieg Heil rallies when the soldiers come around battering on doors. They don't give you a choice, you must attend."

Hex knew of many Germans who did likewise, he speculated, "That may be why you were targeted by the SS. Have you any idea why they arrested you tonight?"

She grumbled, "I haven't had a lot of time to think since the Hippodrom. That vampire colonel seemed personally interested in me," Monika emphasized the personal pronoun. "I never saw her before in my life. Till a few hours ago."

"Were you able to use the shielding method I taught you to protect yourself against her supernatural power?" asked Hex. 

Not long ago he had spent an afternoon with her at Tobias Rothschild's estate coaching her in an inexact science he called shielding. A vampire named Vladimir Tarasov in Romania had grudgingly revealed the secret to him. Hex told her he passed this method along to all agents of the Raven Cadre, including Rothschild. Monika knew he underwrote the activities of Hex's vampire hunting group.

"A little, but I haven't mastered being able to look them in the eye and prevent them from clouding my mind like you can. Von Schitt managed to hypnotize me though. I resisted her as best as possible by the way you showed me: unfocusing my eyes and putting my mind in another place. After a while she simply overwhelmed me though. I'm afraid she prevailed, Ryan."

"Sounds to me like you stood up to her very well. Then what happened?"

"I vaguely remember her asking me about what you and the others were doing at the Oktoberfest. I got away with giving her some incomplete and evasive answers on some things, but not everything. My mind was a like a revolving door. I was strong one minute and weak the next."

Hex downshifted furiously. The back end of the Mercedes swerved like a fish's tail but he expertly righted it. "Do you remember what she questioned you about?"

"I do recall her asking who met Odell and me when we got off the Orient Express." She paused as if thinking. At the time he seemed too busy fighting the wheel to be giving her his full attention. She omitted what had happened between Odell and her on the overnight train journey, the same way she had when von Schitt put the question to her on the steps of St. Paul's Church. She continued by saying, "I played dumb, the best I could do was give only Scotty's and your first names."

"You saved my life and yours by pulling that off."

"How?"

"Had von Schitt known my full name she'd have killed me when she caught me behind the car," he said. "She ask about the Raven Cadre?"

"Not by name. She wanted to know if any of you worked as assassins for a foreign government. I told her I wasn't positive about anything more than the three of you were secret agents, planning some kind of operation at the Oktoberfest."

"Do you remember anything else?"

"She wanted to know if any one of you three knew how to shoot a crossbow. That's when I weakened but still hedged my answer. I told her Odell was an athlete, perhaps he might be able."

Hex glanced over at her. "Clever, and vague on your part, a hypnotist has to ask specific questions to get a victim to divulge information."

"I guess that threw her off the track enough because all she asked afterwards was if Odell had any archery equipment among his luggage. I told her the truth, he didn't. Scotty brought that stuff in his car, but she didn't ask me that. But I told her a lot I shouldn't've."

"You did great. We can work on sharpening your skills at shielding. As I said, the way you hedged your answers more than likely saved my life: you avoided mentioning the Raven Cadre and you didn't give her my full name."

"She made me get drunk, that didn't help matters much."

"Von Schitt's fifty years older than you. I think it's safe to say she's the most devious person alive, or undead, that I ever encountered. And I've met some tricky bloodsuckers." 

"She obviously worked with those SS officers who arrested me, the ones who brought this car. But why did that bitch have me arrested in the first place?"

"We may never know other than you are an outspoken young woman. As a public figure a private life is something you don't actually have anymore," he explained. "Tobias has warned you that when you talk, unlike most other people, you're quoted in newspapers and magazines."

"I'm not a traitor to the Rhineland and want to be a good citizen. But I'm a Berliner first, a German second, and a Nazi last." 

"I know it's a popular sentiment, one plenty of Berliners and German citizens embrace. That is, those who aren't donning brown shirts and throwing their hands in the air." 

"I know I'm not the only one. So why single me out?"

"I repeat everyone else isn't a famous film actress," he said with another change of gears. "Who in the Nazi party have you angered recently? Or who misconstrued an imagined slight?"

Monika lent it some thought. "Leni Riefenstahl offered me a role in her new picture. I turned it down without reading the script."

"Why? She's a respected director after Triumph of the Will."

"Exactly, and just another one of Adolf's bootlickers. Leni can shove her propaganda horseshit. I want no part of it."

"There you go being outspoken again," Hex said between his teeth as he fought the steering wheel. "I fear your country's in for hard times ahead with Hitler running the show."

"Your country too. That little twerp isn't going to satisfied until all of Europe is at war with us."

"The rest of the world too, particularly the Russians and Americans," Hex said. She knew he shared information with Rothschild's political friends making him more knowledgeable than the average man on the street in 1938. He changed the subject: "Scotty told me what happened in the Hippodrom before he got killed tonight." 

Monika remembered Trommler and Koch's account earlier to von Schitt in the back seat of the Mercedes. They had killed a man at the Oktoberfest who trailed them to the car, she had not known the identity of the deceased. She touched Hex's arm and he glanced over at her. Tears glittered like broken diamonds in her eyes.

"Scotty's dead, oh my God. He stood up to the SS in the 'drom and they hit him in the face with a pistol butt, one of the men you killed. How do you know, did the SS arrest him too?"

Hex recounted what Hoffner told him as he lie dying on the parking apron. When he finished he asked, "Did you hear me talking to Ingrid at the lodge a few minutes ago?" 

"I heard some of it, but I was so scared I swooned after she threatened to kill me. What?"

"Prepare yourself," he said quietly, "this is more bad news."

"Oh no! Not Odell?" The memory of the night they spent on the train surfaced in her mind again.

"One of her goon girls attacked Scotty and me in the Wies'n. Odell wanted a piece of the action and jumped in the middle."

Monika tried to hold back her tears, they fell anyway but she did not sob. She looked away from Hex, gazing quietly out the car window. He concentrated on driving but after a time said to her: "When we get to the road I'm going to stop to fix the Nazi flags back in place on the bonnet, don't know why von Schitt took them off. I need to ask you to put her cap back on your head and tuck your hair under it."

"So we look like Nazis? But why?"

"Well, for one thing, so you won't look so much like Monika Fuchsmach. I fear the curtain hasn't rung down on this show just yet."

"But we got away."

"So did Ingrid! You can bet your last German mark she's hell bent on finding a telephone as we speak. When she does we can expect interference, especially headed east back to Munich. That's why we're driving west instead," Hex paused. "We must however appear to be Nazi high command. I have fake SS papers and you're in a Gestapo colonel's uniform. Maybe we can bluff our way through enlisted men, but even that will be dodgy. There's an SS Junkerschule to the south of here. Should she call the school, von Schitt will insist they wake up the officer candidates to use hunting us. South is out of the question."

"You know an awful lot."

"Not nearly enough. Rothschild's money buys information. As you well know he's waging a losing war with Nazi Germany, and I'm dealing with the Vampire Korps front for him. We need to know where our enemies are."

She rubbed her eyes and wiped her nose the uniform sleeve. "I dread thinking about Tobias," she sniffed.

"Don't worry too much about him, he hasn't stayed one step ahead of the secret police all these years by being stupid."

"I haven't been able to reach him since last Friday."

"On Wednesday I spoke to him, he swore me to secrecy not to tell anyone, even in the Cadre. Who knows why? Rothschild does things like that. I shouldn't tell you this but, to put you at ease after tonight's grim business, he received a tip from a spy planted in Himmler's office. Time to go underground, right now he's in hiding at Rueben Feldmann's home."

"My manager?"

"None other than. Do you know why he sent you to Munich?"

"Some publicity stunt he cooked up because he's acquainted with Odell Yell's manager. They wanted to bank on his and my celebrity, he said."

"I'm not buying Feldmann's reason. Rothschild would say nothing on the subject when I brought it up to him Wednesday," Hex said angrily. "That nonsense almost got you killed."

"It did get Odell killed."

"If it helps matters any Odell died a hero. He saved my life and Scotty's, only he gave up his in the process. An unselfish man. So was Scotty."

Monika stared out the passenger window again.

Hex braked to a stop before turning onto the road. "Fetch me those Nazi flags you tossed about." He reattached them, dusted off his trenchcoat and got back in the idling Mercedes. Once on the tarmac again he made a right: west. For several kilometers they rode in silence, rounding wide curves as the way grew more winding.

Shapes in the night whipped past to the left but Monika paid little attention. Had she been she'd have noticed the two cars parked across the road to obstruct further passage less than a kilometer away. 

She gulped, "Ryan, is that a roadblock?" 

**********

Sergeant Karolin Faust spread her legs for the officer. 

Moments after the man penetrated her wet core and began to lunge strongly against Karolin she locked her hands and feet around his back, hanging underneath his body, conforming to the rhythms he initiated. She wanted to scream out with delight but for the paper-thin walls of her apartment, flanked on all sides by the most inquisitive of neighbors. Karolin wondered how many eyes glued to various spyholes saw Kaptain Klaus Eggers on his way up the stairs. 

He was hard to miss, a hulking brute of a man, attached to a Wehrmacht battalion garrisoned out of town. By no means her sole supply of affection, the boy was two sinful years younger than Karolin's twenty five, but he served his function well. She knew he could not discern he was only another functionary of hers, obviously thought he was in love. Karolin couldn't blame Klaus. She may have been petite, but nonetheless beautiful. Under any circumstances men as well as women would seek her out, more so in a military environment. The ruggedly masculine and blissfully ignorant Kaptain Eggers probably believed himself to be the only one who noticed.

Unless Karolin judged him wrong, and she knew she hadn't, he was just one more puppy dog in the litter wagging his tail. It detracted nothing from the animalistic energy Karolin thrived on and she wagged her tail right along with him. Too bad the good kaptain had no idea how to carry on an intelligent conversation, or he might really be a catch. 

Yet a modern girl can only abide by so much talk.

In spite of Eggers' extensive physical abilities when the blue telephone on her desk rang its special ring and the lights under the dial lit up she scrambled out from under him to answer it.

"Darling, why in hell are you picking up a phone for at a time like this?" the petulant man in her bed asked.

"Vampire Korps business comes before I do unfortunately, Klaus."

"You're not the only one," he grumbled sotto voce.

She took the receiver off the hook, put it to her ear after sweeping her unmilitarily long brunette hair over one shoulder. The gesture left one of her small breasts exposed. Karolin felt Klaus staring at it, and the shadowy patch at the base of her thighs. In times like these she could appreciate a man with a one-track mind, the potential for the ringing telephone to derail her appreciation regrettably high. Subconsciously she crossed her legs, but also crossed her fingers hoping the voice on the line didn't have orders from headquarters.

Karolin tried not to let her face fall as Trudi communicated Colonel von Schmitt's wishes. She rotated on the balls of her bare feet to face away from Klaus. Rigid, he lay on his back in the big brass bed dominating the room, arms crossed over his chest, a cigarette smoldering in one hand.

"You caught me after I went to bed, Trudi. Please repeat the name of the Junkerschule," she located a pen and wrote on the desk blotter. "It will take me all of an hour and a half to get there."

"Sorry it's so spur of the moment, do your best. Ask for the duty officer when you arrive and he'll get you squared away with von Schitt."

Karolin chuckled, all the girls in the Korps called the colonel that, behind her back. "And I have to select seven non-vampire girls for a day team?" Karolin wasn't a vampire but served in the Korps, one of many necessary daytime operatives, except when they needed her in the middle of the night. "I'll make a mental list on the way and compare notes when I meet with Simone to weed out any duplicates."

Eggers started to say something the second she laid down the receiver but Karolin shushed him. "Can't find an ashtray, can you? I know you understand I don't like smoking in my bedroom."

"If I understood correctly, you have to leave."

"What's that got to do with lighting up cigarettes in here?"

He crawled out of the bed and meekly disappeared into the front room where Karolin kept the ashtrays. She liked the view exhibited by his exit but loved the one when he reentered. He sat on her bed, reached for his trousers. Karolin stepped close to him, standing with both breasts at the level of his mouth.

Eggers put the hand meant for his pants on her bottom. Even with a nipple only centimeters from his tongue he asked, "Darling, I thought you had to bottle up and go?"

"That's true, duties calls, damn it," she whispered, moving closer to him.

He put his other hand on her rounded little derriere now, an unavoidable breast in his mouth. Eggers had to mumble, "Don't you have to leave immediately? That's what I heard you say."

"Tell me what I said?" she asked, testing him.

"It will take you every bit of an hour and a half to get to the Junkerschule."

"Very good!" 

She kissed him on the forehead, excited by her power over this bull of a man. The closest comparison for Karolin had to be horseback riding. In the saddle back at school she'd become infatuated with the concept of a little girl controlling a large stallion. Maybe the idea transferred into her adulthood but she seldom concerned herself with Eggers' cranial capacities. She had five or six others on the string as tame as he. She found some of them more inventive, though few matched his level of energy.

Karolin disengaged her right breast in order to kiss Eggers on his mouth. "But that's just what I told Trudi." 

"You mean you don't have to go? Yet?"

"It will take all of an hour and a half," she smiled wickedly, "by the time I'm done with you!" 

"And that means what, Karolin?"

"I can drive there in an hour is what it means," she said.

Eggers appeared delighted. "You can?" 

"With ease! So let's get on with rattling these bedsprings."

**********

"What do you think, Monika? Do I ram the Mercedes through them or do we stop and try to bluff?"




Vampire Korps of the Gestapo Ch. 04



"Can't we just turn around and drive the other way?"

"They'd follow, of course."

"We're damned if we do and damned if we don't. If you ran through them would be the same as turning around, either way they'd be after us."

"My thoughts exactly," Hex said with a glance at his watch. "We left the cabin thirty three minutes ago, von Schitt hasn't had time to warm up the war machine yet."

"What's that mean?"

"It took von Schitt time to get to a telephone to order forces into play. The men at the roadblock probably parked those cars across the road five minutes ago, the Nazis need more time to establish mobility. I think we're home free if we can slip past this barrier. Then get out of the area in a hurry before being snared in some kind of dragnet."

"What are you going to tell them?"

"We play it by ear, see how they treat us first. Can you handle a speaking part if I have to improvise?"

"I chose to refuse Leni Riefensthal but I have no choice with you," Monika commented. 

She tucked her hair neatly under the peaked cap, angled the bill down enough to keep her eyes in shadow. Hex made no mention he was impressed by how much so little changed her looks. 

He asked, "If I have to shoot one, can you handle shooting the other?"

"I don't even want to think about that."

"Now might be a good time to start!" he growled. "Prepare yourself to pull a trigger and shoot to kill if you have to. They won't hesitate with you."

"I know, I know! It's us or them," she snapped back at him.

They had no more time for talk. From his trenchcoat pocket Hex removed the Sicherheitspolizei badge to have available to present. He let the Mercedes roll to a stop slowly, weighing the odds. A big staff car and a privately owned vehicle were parked one facing the other across the two lanes of the road. Already a sentry had exited one of the cars, heading in their direction, shining his torch in their faces. 

"Only one guard?" muttered Hex. "They're not organized yet." 

"There's another headed up my side of the street although he doesn't seem to be in any hurry," Monika reported. "Just came from one of those buildings on the left."

Hex spotted him, noticing both men wore officer candidate SS uniforms. "Shit, I thought the Junkerschule was more south of here. The recruits are prone to be overzealous." 

The soldier on his side of the car approached with eyes alive with suspicion. He set his light on the bonnet of the Mercedes and raised his machine pistol.

Hex squinted but waved a friendly hand at the man, smiling, "I am amazed with your vigilance and speed. Did you just now receive orders to block the road?"

The sentry visibly relaxed his grip on the weapon: "Sir?"

Hex spoke quickly and flashed his badge. "The colonel and I rushed here from a party in the Fuhrer's honor as soon as we learned about the manhunt. I scarcely believe the efficiency of you men, sir. I am Inspekteur Muir. This is my colleague, the colonel."

"Step out of the car please."

Hex pretended he hadn't heard: "Oberfahnrich is your rank, am I correct? Last summer I graduated from the facility in Bad Tolz."

"Will you and the officer step from the car!"

Monika did a spot-on impersonation of the vampire colonel's voice. "Young man, have you ever made the acquaintance of Ingrid von Schmitt?"

"You're Colonel von Schitt, Schmitt?"

"I'm going to forget I heard that," she snarled.

The guard recovered quickly, "Colonel, Inspekteur, get out of the car now."

"What is your name, young man?" Monika demanded.

He tightened his grip back on the machine pistol.

"I asked your name!" Monika asked, undaunted.

Hex looked to the left, the other sentry a mere two hundred meters away, not much time. "This is inconvenient, Junker," he complained. "Let me back out of the way first."

When he ground the Mercedes into reverse, the sentry unleashed a panicked burst of bullets across the top of the windscreen. Glass shards flew into the front seat. Hex didn't have to warn Monika to get down, she already had. The Junker fired from right to left. Before he could sweep the pistol the opposite way, Hex slammed the car into first gear. With tires squealing it lurched forward with a jerk, the fender smacked the sentry's right leg with a sickening crunch as he tried to twist out of the way. A second torrent of lead chattered wild into the sky.

Hex spun the wheel and stamped the foot feed to the floor. He sent the Mercedes around the car blocking the way on the left, on a collision course with the shocked officer candidate walking up the road. The startled Junker flung himself out of the path of certain doom as the car bear down on him, diving onto hard concrete and rolling. He'd be a minute getting back on his feet. Hex knew he'd broken the other sentry's leg.

Wind whipped through the shattered windscreen as Hex left the Junkerschule behind, roared around a curve and kept driving top speed. He only slowed after staring at the rearview mirror for a while, assured no one gave pursuit.

"I'm of two minds," Hex said, "We can go to ground until morning knowing von Schitt will be asleep; but the danger in waiting might be the area is even more heavily populated with Nazis by sunrise, beating the bushes for people who look just like you and me."

Monika shrugged, "Drive all night?"

"If they're better organized than I guessed we run the risk of encountering more roadblocks. And they'll sure as hell be ready for us now."

"We're on a roundabout . . ."

" . . . that won't stop let us off."

"Let's keep running, surely they haven't had time to set up many checkpoints."

"The decision's been made for us."

"What?"

"We're severely low on petrol, just noticed. We can't have the car sputter and die on us, they'll see it on the side of the road and have soldiers combing the vicinity for a woman and man hiking along."

"What do you suggest?"

"We need to hide this thing in someone's garage or barn, heavy brush, whatever we can use for cover. Ideally we could find another car."

"What about the one at the roadblock?"

Hex asked, "Don't you think the Junkerschule will have men everywhere now?"

"Where were all of them before? There was one sentry and another sauntering up the lane. The first sentry probably drove both the cars across the road one at a time."

Hex had gotten that impression too. "The keys are probably still in them."

"It's either a good idea or a waste of time. By now that one fellow should be helping his friend with the broken leg."

"If I turn around I'm parking the Mercedes out of sight with you in it, then I'm striking out on my own," stated Hex. "Drive off if I'm not back by the time you count to six hundred and that sort of rubbish." 

"I'm not sure I like the idea."

"Why? It was yours."

"Not the part about being left alone."

Hex saw something out of the corner of his eye. "I might not have to leave you after all."

"I hope so, or you've got a terribly long walk ahead of you if you don't park closer to the Junkerschule." 

Hex braked the car to a halt then started backing down the empty road. Fifty meters later he verified he'd seen a passage leading into a thick stand of pines, not a dirt trail or ruts in the soil, but more of a natural space between the trees. He turned right and proceeded off the road into the foliage, cutting the lights once he had all four wheels negotiating the terrain.

"What do you see that I don't?" asked Monika. "I swear there's a building out in those trees."

"What kind of building?"

"We're about to find out."

"Maybe we can hide in it."

"Or at least hide the Mercedes."

She said, "That was a dodgy idea of mine anyway, stealing a car from a checkpoint."

"Solving the problem of hiding doesn't solve the problem of no petrol. For the time being hiding is our best recourse," said Hex. "Without fuel we shan't get beyond the Nazis' reach."

"And we can't be seen walking," sighed Monika.

Hex parked the car in a position to drive straight out of the wooded area. He shut off the engine and said, "Let's make sure we have something solid and not a shadow down there." 

He locked up after Monika got out, opened the boot of the car, closed it shut when he didn't find an extra five-liter can of petrol squirreled away. They picked their way through timber overrun with brush. After the first few meters of greenery Hex knew he was not wrong.

A dilapidated brick building sprawled amidst the trees. 

**********

Brandt rose from the unforgiving concrete, nursing his right shoulder. He hobbled over to where Vogt writhed in the middle of the road grasping at his injured leg and groaning in pain. Vogt had not lost consciousness, wide-eyed in the apogee of shock. 

"Take it easy, Emil," Brandt gasped at the sight. It looked like a soccer ball had been stuffed into his friend's pantsleg. "You'll do fine once I get you off this street."

Vogt moaned, "Don't move me."

"You're in shock, can't very well leave you here," Brandt said quietly. "You forget you could get run over."

"I've already been run over. What do you intend to do?"

"Stick you in the backseat of the one of the cars. Drive you back to the school."

He walked over to the staff car, ducked inside and scanned the dashboard. The keys dangled from the ignition. He steered the long car alongside Junker Vogt, got the rear passenger door open. They debated the merits of carrying Vogt or letting him balance on his good leg against Brandt. Finally Brandt picked Vogt up in a flurry of motion and settled him into the seat. No other vehicles appeared while he worked to get his comrade in the car without further extent of damage. He zoomed toward the school's entrance leaving the other car partially blocking the road.

Brandt parked in front of the duty office. 

"Medical attention is on the way, Junker," he promised.

When he walked inside he'd forgotten all about Petra. Her head moved up and down over Dekker's lap while he reclined in the desk chair with his eyes closed. Brandt had time to take in the scene, neither of them saw him enter. Catching Dekker with Petra as he himself had been evened the score, both men tarred with the same brush, so to speak. Junker Vogt's broken limb took precedence. Esprit de corps. Brandt coughed discreetly, Petra's head flew up, Dekker's eyes flew open.

"Goddammit, Oskar, why aren't you at your post?" said the red-faced and disgruntled Dekker.

"Konrad! Vogt's been hit by a car."

"Good God, why didn't you say so? The man's a classmate. Does he need the doctor?"

"Got a broken leg, in shock. I've got him outside in the duty car. Shall I run him to the hospital?"

"You'll have to, there's no one here to look after him. What the fuck happened?"

Brandt told Dekker about the maniac behind the wheel of the Mercedes. In conclusion Brandt said, "After I get Vogt to the doctors may I scout around for the sons of bitches responsible? Since I saw their car and the roadblock's been abandoned and everything?"

Dekker said, "Good initiative, Junker. I'd be out there with you, but Colonel von Schmitt wants me by the phone. Keep me informed."

"Once our friend Emil is in good hands I'll explore the back roads and by-ways I know so well, the least I can do. If they're holed up, I'll find them."

And kill them.