The Templar Prophecy by Mario Reading Read Free Book Online

be shot in the back. At the very last instant before hurtling through the door he had remembered the lieutenant colonel’s warning about the sniper, but by then it was too late. He stopped thinking about the sniper and began thinking aboutthe SS sergeant. He had left the Panzerfaust behind him in the trench. Such a thing was tantamount to treason. He deserved to be shot.
    Hans ran and ran. He ran until his lungs burned with the effort. He was running towards the Führer. He had been tasked by a senior officer with an important mission. The Führer would realize that he was not running away and give him a medal. He would show his mother the medal and she would be proud of him. She would rub his hair the way she did when she was particularly pleased, and then give him a gingerbread man, which he would eat with a tall glass of creamy milk, straight from the cow. All the neighbours would turn out to see his medal. Arthur Axmann himself, the national leader of the Hitler Youth, would come by to admire it. The mayor would tell Hans to take the medal back to his school and show it off in front of his class.
    Young Hans Scheuer never felt the bullet that killed him. It was fired by SS Master Sergeant Friedhelm Eberhard. He had warned Scheuer not to abandon his post until the Russian tanks came calling. Scheuer deserved to die. If everybody behaved as he did, there would be chaos. As it was, things had already descended into a state of anarchic disorder. Eberhard considered himself one of the final bulwarks of civilization against the Red Army hordes that threatened the Fatherland. Killing cowards was a necessary part of his duties. The traitor Scheuer was lucky not to have been hanged from a lamp post like the three men Eberhard and his gang had encountered the day before. The bastards had even changed into civilianclothes. But Eberhard knew a military haircut when he saw one. The court – of which he was the only functional member – had condemned the men out of hand. They had been strung up within minutes, with signs hung round their necks as a warning to others.
    Eberhard turned the boy over with his foot. He was taken aback by how little he weighed. Where had the snivelling tick found a Luger and a briefcase? And what were these? Medals? The identity discs of an SS lieutenant colonel? Had Scheuer been plundering the dead as well as running?
    Eberhard broke open the hasp of the briefcase with his combat knife. What he saw turned his skin as cold as if he had inadvertently swum through an ice current. The documents inside the briefcase were marked ‘For The Führer’s Eyes Only’. Eberhard looked around. Some of his men were watching him. Eberhard could see disgust at his action in killing the boy written all over their faces.
    â€˜This traitor has been plundering the body of an SS officer. Look. He has stolen the medals and identity tags of one Obersturmbannführer Baldur Pfeidler. Here. This one is a Knight’s Cross. And this one a Close Combat Clasp in gold. The man he stole from was a hero of the Reich.’ Eberhard held out the medals as proof. He glanced down at the boy’s body. Maybe the boy had been running back to bring him the briefcase? Maybe he had made a mistake in shooting him?
    Eberhard forced the thought from his mind. In war, everything was justified if it led to victory. That’s what they had taught him during training at Bad Tölz, and that’s whathe believed. Whichever way you chose to look at it, the boy had died for his Fatherland.
    â€˜You. You are not one of mine. What is your name?’ Eberhard asked of one of the men standing near him.
    â€˜Gerlacher, Sergeant.’
    â€˜Go and take over Scheuer’s Panzerfaust, Gerlacher. The first Russian tank that rounds the corner – paff . No need to tell you what happens to cowards. You’ve just seen.’
    â€˜Yes, Sergeant. There is no need.’
    â€˜I shall be gone for a while. I am