Pursuit by Robert L. Fish Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert L. Fish
out of the city. The chauffeur had chosen the Radom road through past experience and they drove through the awakening countryside at a high rate of speed, taking advantage of the untrafficked road conditions, conditions both von Schraeder and the driver knew would not last for long.
The colonel sat quietly in one corner of the large rear seat of the official military limousine, smoking a cigarette, looking out at the neat farmhouses and the grazing cattle with vast disinterest, his mind on other things. In the other corner Dr. Schlossberg sat, his eyes half closed, the faint lascivious smile on his face clearly indicating he was reliving the pleasures of the night before. The girl had been everything the colonel had promised, nor for a moment did he believe she was Jewish, since intercourse between Aryan and Jew was forbidden. But why the colonel had presented him with that extraordinary delicacy was something the doctor did not understand. In fact, the sudden friendliness of the previously cold colonel was as mysterious as the offer of the girlâs services.
It was very odd. In the year since Franz Schlossberg had been transferred from repairing shattered bodies and faces at the Laukhammer Military Hospital to Maidanek camp at Lublin, Poland, he had seen the colonel various times. He had, of course, seen him at the officersâ mess, evenings in the canteen, at meetings, and occasionally on the camp grounds, but his only personal contact had been when he had examined the girl Sarah for venereal disease. He recalled that examination very well, with the girl on the table, her marvelous breasts straining the hospital gown, the gown up around her waist, her feet in the stirrups, those lovely legs spread wide to open that fabulous slit to view, and that mask of dead indifference on her face that did nothing to hide her hatred for a moment. Who would ever have thought he would have a chance to delve those sweet depths with anything but a rubber-gloved finger?
The smile faded from his lips as he suddenly remembered something else. In the year since he had been at Maidanek, Colonel von Schraeder must have taken at least ten girls to bed according to canteen rumors, few of them lasting much more than a month, and each had previously been checked for diseaseâbut this was the first time the colonel had specifically asked that Dr. Schlossberg handle the assignment. Actually, it wasnât really in his field. Very odd. As odd, for example, as this sudden transfer back to Germanyâ
âColonelââ
âHelmut,â von Schraeder said as if by rote, not taking his eyes from the pastoral scenery outside the speeding car.
âHelmut.â The name seemed difficult for the doctor to say. âWe were going to speak of my transfer.â
âIf you insist.â Von Schraeder finally brought his attention back to the interior of the car, his thoughts from far away. He crushed out his cigarette in the ashtray, followed his usual ritual with the holder, and then leaned forward, sliding the glass partition shut between the chauffeur and themselves. He then leaned back negligently, crossing one leg over the other, one hand stroking the smooth polished leather of the boot sensuously, almost as if it were Sarahâs belly or haunch. âWell? What about it?â
âI meanâdid you arrange for my transfer from Maidanek? The commandant seemed to think you did.â
âAnd for once our genius of a commandant was correct,â von Schraeder said calmly.
âButâwhy?â
âQuite simple,â von Schraeder said evenly. He had been studying exactly how to answer this question and had come to the conclusion that the truth would be as confusing to the doctor as anything. âItâs possible that I may need your help.â
âMy help?â The doctor was truly surprised. Von Schraeder looked in the peak of health, although there was, of course, the stories he had heard of
The colonel sat quietly in one corner of the large rear seat of the official military limousine, smoking a cigarette, looking out at the neat farmhouses and the grazing cattle with vast disinterest, his mind on other things. In the other corner Dr. Schlossberg sat, his eyes half closed, the faint lascivious smile on his face clearly indicating he was reliving the pleasures of the night before. The girl had been everything the colonel had promised, nor for a moment did he believe she was Jewish, since intercourse between Aryan and Jew was forbidden. But why the colonel had presented him with that extraordinary delicacy was something the doctor did not understand. In fact, the sudden friendliness of the previously cold colonel was as mysterious as the offer of the girlâs services.
It was very odd. In the year since Franz Schlossberg had been transferred from repairing shattered bodies and faces at the Laukhammer Military Hospital to Maidanek camp at Lublin, Poland, he had seen the colonel various times. He had, of course, seen him at the officersâ mess, evenings in the canteen, at meetings, and occasionally on the camp grounds, but his only personal contact had been when he had examined the girl Sarah for venereal disease. He recalled that examination very well, with the girl on the table, her marvelous breasts straining the hospital gown, the gown up around her waist, her feet in the stirrups, those lovely legs spread wide to open that fabulous slit to view, and that mask of dead indifference on her face that did nothing to hide her hatred for a moment. Who would ever have thought he would have a chance to delve those sweet depths with anything but a rubber-gloved finger?
The smile faded from his lips as he suddenly remembered something else. In the year since he had been at Maidanek, Colonel von Schraeder must have taken at least ten girls to bed according to canteen rumors, few of them lasting much more than a month, and each had previously been checked for diseaseâbut this was the first time the colonel had specifically asked that Dr. Schlossberg handle the assignment. Actually, it wasnât really in his field. Very odd. As odd, for example, as this sudden transfer back to Germanyâ
âColonelââ
âHelmut,â von Schraeder said as if by rote, not taking his eyes from the pastoral scenery outside the speeding car.
âHelmut.â The name seemed difficult for the doctor to say. âWe were going to speak of my transfer.â
âIf you insist.â Von Schraeder finally brought his attention back to the interior of the car, his thoughts from far away. He crushed out his cigarette in the ashtray, followed his usual ritual with the holder, and then leaned forward, sliding the glass partition shut between the chauffeur and themselves. He then leaned back negligently, crossing one leg over the other, one hand stroking the smooth polished leather of the boot sensuously, almost as if it were Sarahâs belly or haunch. âWell? What about it?â
âI meanâdid you arrange for my transfer from Maidanek? The commandant seemed to think you did.â
âAnd for once our genius of a commandant was correct,â von Schraeder said calmly.
âButâwhy?â
âQuite simple,â von Schraeder said evenly. He had been studying exactly how to answer this question and had come to the conclusion that the truth would be as confusing to the doctor as anything. âItâs possible that I may need your help.â
âMy help?â The doctor was truly surprised. Von Schraeder looked in the peak of health, although there was, of course, the stories he had heard of