A Deadly Game [Lisa]

[Otto Wolff]

Country: Occupied France, late August 1943
Area/Setting: A smaller French village in the countryside, sporting a modest cobblestone-covered marketplace in the center of it. The village has less than 40 occupants, most of the people living outside the village in farms.
Current Time: 12:30
Weather Conditions: A cloudy but warm day with slight wind.


A small mangy-furred dog slunk away quickly as a gray-and-green Kübelwagen and two German motorcycles made their way to the center of the small French village. This particular village was a modest place, mostly inhabited by craftsmen and their families, although the farmers from the surrounding areas visited the village often. They made their way to the village to hear the news and to exchange goods, although any bigger and more complicated purchases would have to be performed in the town some ten kilometers away. Life moved slowly here, dependent on the seasons, weather, crops and the health of the animals.

Generally, the villagers living under German occupation were left in peace and they continued doing whatever they had done before the war. Their occupiers had set some rules and limitations, of course, but the French peasants of this area had little trouble with these things. At least that was how life had been before the Germans had set up a temporary garrison nearby. This had not only brought German soldiers to the countryside, but also lured out the French resistance. Most of the locals blamed the Germans for interrupting their peaceful lives, but some grumbled about the partisans themselves.

An Opel Blitz had arrived just slightly earlier, hauling in twelve armed soldiers of the Waffen-SS to round up the villagers. It was just a surprise inspection, really, meant to scare the locals into giving the Gestapo information on the local resistance. Otto did not have high expectations of gathering any solid information, but it might at least make the local partisans quake in their pants when they realized that the German Secret State Police was on their trail. The villagers might also just choose to tell the Gestapo what they knew about the resistance, just for the sole reason of getting back to their peaceful lives once again.

The two motorcycle escort and the Kübelwagen came to a stop near the now empty Blitz-truck; the SS-soldiers had already occupied themselves with rounding up any hapless villagers who had been conveniently close by when they had arrived. The nearby houses had been searched and emptied too, but the total toll of the villagers found on the village square now had still been left to only around twenty-five adults of varying ages and seven children. The soldiers had gathered up everyone on the square, some carrying MP40's and some Mauser Karbines, and they had enforced their words with some rather unfriendly German words and even the occasional punch.

The door of the Kübelwagen slammed shut after two men in black SS-uniforms and peaked caps had exited it. The driver stayed in the vehicle and lit himself a cigarette as the Gestapo officials started walking towards the concerned-looking villagers. The other man was younger and shorter, with light hair and sharp blue eyes. He seemed quite unimpressed by his surroundings and obviously did not find the task too interesting. The taller and older man, most likely in his fifties, had black hair and matching dark eyes that already scanned over the villagers, looking up the potentially weaker individuals.

His black uniform was immaculate and fit the man perfectly, it had been tailored to suit him. He was broad-shouldered and apparently made an effort to keep himself in shape. Walking towards the villagers, straight-backed and with confident strides, he seemed to feel quite superior to everyone around him. Kriminalkommissar Otto Wolff found it easy to feel arrogant in the middle of these filthy peasants. He had never liked France, the French themselves or their dreadful language, although he had gone through the effort to learn it properly in the university. He now dearly wished he had not done so, since he had found himself doing work assignments in occupied France more often than he would have preferred. Well, it was this or Norway.

"Die Dorfbewohner werden aufgenommen, wie Sie wollten, Herr Kriminalkommissar," the SS soldier in charge of the soldiers announced with a quick salute and click of his jackboots.
"Danke, Scharführer. Haben Sie zwei Ihrer Männer machen absolut sicher, dass das Haus da drüben leer ist," the dark-haired Gestapo officer returned the salute and pointed a hand at the nearest two-storied house. Acknowledging the order and setting two of his men to the task, the Scharführer still remained nearby to carry out any further orders. The younger Gestapo officer, ranking lower than the Kriminalkommissar judging by his tabs, followed the tall man just a few paces away. He also tried, quite unsuccessfully, not to seem too bored.

Otto walked slowly in front of the crowd, from one villager to the next, pairs of fearful eyes following his gradual progress from one person to the next. The tall man stopped in front of one of the villagers, an older woman, and he held out his hand expectantly. "Vos papiers, s'il vous plaît," Otto requested in a smooth voice, his French carrying a curious and clearly un-German accent to it. The woman quickly complied, producing her identification papers with a shaky hand. The Gestapo officer glanced at the identification papers briefly, then handed them back to the woman, even courteously thanking her.

The Kriminalkommissar proceeded like this, demanding to see people's identifications, asking what was their profession, their birth date and where they lived, to see if the information they were giving him correlated with what was written in the ID papers. He never forgot to say please and thank you, which was quite surprising considering the fact that the man's mannerisms had made him seem so overly arrogant just previously.

Otto was about to ask a small, middle-aged man for his identification, when the tall man's attention was suddenly stolen by the figure of a young woman, standing a few meters away from where Otto was now. The young lady, maybe in her twenties, had long blonde hair and vivid blue eyes. These qualities combined with the fine facial features and a slender body made the her seem almost German. This rare and pretty sight in the middle of all these peasants both pleased and intrigued the Kriminalkommissar. Otto Wolff had always had a weakness for the ladies and the years had done nothing to diminish this vice of his.

Dropping the idea of asking the small, sweaty man for his identification, the Kriminalkommissar moved on and stopped in front of the young woman. "Votre nom, Mademoiselle? Et les papiers, si je peux demander," the man said, his voice now smoother and lower than before. Otto's gaze travelled slowly, studying the woman from head to toe. A rare, slightly lopsided smile played upon the Gestapo officer's lips as he held out his hand for the girl's identification papers.


Translations:

"Die Dorfbewohner werden aufgenommen, wie Sie wollten, Herr Kriminalkommissar."
"The villagers are gathered up as you requested, Herr Kriminalkommissar."

"Danke, Scharführer. Haben Sie zwei Ihrer Männer machen absolut sicher, dass das Haus da drüben leer ist."
"Thank you, Scharführer. Have two of your men make absolutely sure that the house over there is empty."

"Vos papiers, s'il vous plaît."
"Your papers, please."

"Votre nom, Mademoiselle? Et les papiers, si je peux demander."
"Your name, miss? And papers, if I may ask."

[lisawieserman1941]

Made unaware yet to the Gestapo man in charge, Lisa was practically dragged off her horse as she refused to dismount when she happened upon a patrol in the thick woods blooming with Waffen SS soldiers armed with 9 mm Parabellum Schmeisser MP-40 sub-machine guns. She was in awe of the weapons, having heard of their folding stocks, working bolt actions and detachable magazines, but intimidated by them as well of their lethal sprays taking down their adversaries with single bursts of biting bullets assaulting giving flesh. Garbed in SS M44 Dot pattern camouflage uniforms, sporting lightning bolts on their helmets, made it clear to the young partisan they were of the Waffen SS, highly armed and trained to deliver death to the enemy void of any remorse. Still, Lisa put up quite a fight to avoid capture even after the soldier in charge ordered, "Halt! Auslieferung oder wir schiessen!" The horse was spooked by the men grabbing at his owner. He reared up as the young Resistance fighter slid off backwards hitting the ground hard, rolling to a stop by the squad, looking up at them with trepidation locked in her eyes. Guardian scampered off to her Uncle's house like he was trained to do when trouble arose.

Leveling their burp guns on Lisa, the leader demanded she get up and raise her hands. She smartly complied with her hands held high dreading the outcome. A young Sergeant whose uniform consisted of the iron cross second class as well as many combat badges and other decorations indicated a veteran of countless battles. He searched her and found the hidden dagger Lisa sheathed by her right hip inside her trousers. A Private was ordered to motion her forward, punching his MP-40 sideways into the suspected partisan's shoulder blades. Lisa cussed at him in German as she was then lead into the assembled crowd.


The Sergeant walked up to his superior and smartly saluted him, offering him Lisa's dagger as proof of a Resistance fighter. Both German and French eyes now rested on the young blond woman. It all transpireded right after the black uniformed Gestapo asked Lisa for her papers in their native language. The Sergeant of the squad who captured her told the Gestapo man who stood before the woman, waiting for her answer, "Herr Kriminalkommissar, Sie kann der Nacht Fahrer des Widerstandes sein. Das ist ihr Rufzeichen. Truppen beschmutzten ihr langes blondes Haar nachdem ein Munitionslager gesprengt wurde."

By now, prison, torture, and a firing squad filled Lisa's mind with terror after hearing the Sergeant tell the Gestapo she may be the Night Rider responsible for blowing up the munitions depot. A shiver ran down her spine feeling his arrogant nature darting through her. The Nazi armband as well as the TotenKoph symbol on his cap did not help matters, confirming who and what he was. Breathing heavily at this point, her adrenaline pumped uncontrollably, worried she would need a bag to breathe through or would expire face first before his well polished boots and the Sergeant who confirmed her identity.

Lisa then searched for her fellow Resistance fighter as if she was casually looking at all the villagers, and spotted Claude who both understood and spoke English. She did not stop scanning when his familiar face was found in the crowd so as not to betray his cover as a simple peasant. Lisa knew she was in serious trouble after her brave attempt at eluding the patrol now met with the Gestapo's ear, expecting he found his Resistance fighter, especially since she owned a horse and had pale hair like the Night Rider, a means of transport to hastily escape a trap and capture. But it didn't work this time. Lisa expected doom lingered in the horizon.


Translations:

"Halt! Auslieferung oder wir schiessen!"
"Halt! Surrender or we shoot!"

"Herr Kriminalkommissar, Sie kann der Nacht Fahrer des Widerstandes sein. Das ist ihr Fufzeichen. Truppen beschmutzten ihr langes blondes Haar nachdem ein Munitionslager gesprengt wurde."
"Herr Kriminalkommissar, she may be the Night Rider of the Resistance. That is her call sign. Troops spotted her long blond hair after a munitions depot was blown up."

[Otto Wolff]

"Herr Kriminalkommissar, Sie kann der Nacht Fahrer des Widerstandes sein. Das ist ihr Rufzeichen. Truppen beschmutzten ihr langes blondes Haar nachdem ein Munitionslager gesprengt wurde," the Scharführer said promptly, handing the young woman's knife to the Gestapo officer. The Kriminalkommissar inspected the knife thoughtfully and gave the SS man a small frown. From what the Scharführer now told Otto, the man could gather that the girl had been riding a horse, resisted capture and the knife had been later found on her when she had been searched. The horse had fled after the girl had been apprehended and she had been heard cursing loudly in German when the SS soldiers had brought her to the town square. All of these things only served to make Otto more curious. So if she wasn't French, what was she? German?

"Nacht Fahrer? Wie entzückend... einprägsam," Otto remarked, his voice filled with more than just a hint of sarcasm. "Vernichtete ein Munitionskasten, Sie sagen? Sie werden kühner pro Tag, sind sie nicht?" As the man spoke, he kept his eyes on the blonde girl, wondering if such a fine specimen could have done something that daring. Of course, all kinds of people from both genders, varying ages and nationalities took part in resistance activities, so he would not have been really too surprised to find out that this particular girl was behind the crime. Still, she was quite cute for a resistance fighter, Otto had to admit.

The gaze of the Kriminalkommissar's dark eyes was sharp and chillingly penetrating. You knew he wasn't just looking at you, but thinking, calculating. You could almost see the gears turning inside the man's head and he would note even the slightest change in the other person's demeanor. Even the smallest mistake would be enough and the Gestapo officer would be upon his prey like a trained hound. Where as these men of the SS were certainly skilled and punctual when it came to performing their duties, there was something different about this Gestapo officer. He lived for his work and would stop at nothing to catch the people who were considered enemies of the Reich. Years of experience and unfaltering dedication were evident in the way the man presented himself. It was surely an intimidating combination of qualities in a person who carried the golden National Socialist Party badge on the lapel of his uniform.

Handing the knife back to the Scharführer, Otto arched an eyebrow at the girl briefly. She seemed almost ready to pass out from fear and for a moment Otto truly wondered if she would. That would have been a pity; waking her up would only serve to waste Otto's precious time. Either she was really as evidently guilty as she seemed to be or the encounter with Waffen-SS and Gestapo had just scared her out of her wits. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, some had even soiled their pants when they were confronted by the dark-clad officers. That was something Otto certainly did not wish to witness with this lot, it was so very detestable and highly awkward.

"Sie sprechen Deutsch, dann?" the tall Gestapo officer asked, his voice still pleasantly smooth and low. It was quite unmilitary of him, since the men of the SS were used to barking orders in loud voices and here the Kriminalkommissar was, talking in a tone of voice that might have even been mistaken as being friendly. Personally, Otto just disliked having to yell. In his opinion, if he had to yell to make his point clear, he had already lost the argument.

"Wie in aller Welt haben Sie geschafft, in Frankreich zu überleben, wenn Sie die Sprache nicht sprechen?" Otto asked in a slightly amused tone, presenting the palm of his hand again at the girl. "Ich bat um Ihren Namen und Papiere, Fräulein. Und wenn Sie dabei sind, mir zu sagen, dass Sie keine Papiere mit Ihnen tragen, sind wir dabei, einige ernste Schwierigkeiten zu haben. Wir werden Ihre Identität früher oder später, irgendwie, so nichts in der Verzögerung des Unvermeidlichen herausfinden. Aber natürlich müssen wir uns nicht darüber sorgen, da es keine Schwierigkeiten geben wird, habe ich Recht?" the man asked with a small, treacherous smile. He wasn't being friendly, he was only making sure that the young woman understood the gravity of the situation.


Translations:

"Nacht Fahrer? Wie entzückend... einprägsam."
"Night Rider? How delightfully... catchy."

"Vernichtete ein Munitionskasten, Sie sagen? Sie werden kühner pro Tag, sind sie nicht?"
"Blew up an ammunitions depot, you say? They are getting bolder by the day, are they not?"

"Sie sprechen Deutsch, dann?"
"You speak German, then?"

"Wie in aller Welt haben Sie geschafft, in Frankreich zu überleben, wenn Sie die Sprache nicht sprechen?"
"How on earth have you managed to survive in France without knowing the language?"

"Ich bat um Ihren Namen und Papiere, Fräulein..."
"I asked for your name and papers, miss. And if you are going to tell me that you're not carrying any papers with you, we're going to have some serious trouble. We will find out your identity sooner or later, anyway, so no point in delaying the inevitable. But of course, we don't have to worry about that, since there won't be any trouble, am I right?"

[lisawieserman1941]

Trying to mask her nerves was like hiding a division in the middle of the desert. The piercing survey the Gestapo gave Lisa felt like he was reaching inside her and crushing her heart with those lurid eyes. He sent off waves he was reading her mind before given the chance to voice answers.

How am I going to speak German without an accent. He will see right through it. I have to try, Lisa mused as she gathered up the best German she could muster.

Pitching awkwardly, the young partisan caught herself before falling onto the Sergeant as a fainting spell almost took over. Lisa managed to right herself wavering an unconscious curtain call. Her constant nightmares came true. Not only would she be shot by the Waffen SS for her actions she knew would be found guilty of in time, torture would present itself before discovering its victim following it to the firing squad stake, leaving a mere speck of what she once was, a woman teeming with bravado void of any fear which now was strangling her into submission.

"Ja spreche ich Deutsches. Ich bin nicht der Nacht Fahrer. Ich verstehe nicht ihre Sprache noch spreche sie. Wie kann ich mit dem Widerstand arbeiten? Sie sind stolzen Leute und eine Sorgfalt nicht fuer Deutschen," the French Resistance fighter lied through her teeth, shaking her head playing innocent.

"Mein Onkel wohnt in Vichy. Ich bin seine Nichte. Meine Oma wohnte in Essen bombardiert," Lisa answered him standing straighter now, thinking her accent was now clear of American.

"Ich habe keine Papiere. Ich habe sie verloren, als mein Pferd ging durch und ich fiel in das Dickicht,", his prey issued, her breathing now labored as panic threw its curve ball.

"Bitte, ich bin nur ein Deutscher Zivilist,", Lisa finally concluded her German as she succumbed to unconsciousness and fell limply on the ground from hyperventilating.


Translation:

"Ja spreche ich Deutsches. Ich bin nicht der Nacht Fahrer. Ich verstehe nicht ihre Sprache noch spreche sie. Wie kann ich mit dem Widerstand arbeiten? Sie sind stolzen Leute und eine Sorgfalt nicht fuer Deutschen."

"Yes I speak German. I am not the Night Rider. I do not understand nor speak it. How can I work with the Resistance? They are a proud people and care not for German."

"Mein Onkel wohnt in Vichy. Ich bin seine Nichte. Meine Oma wohnte in Essen bombardiert,"

"My Uncle lives in Vichy. I am his niece. My Oma's home was bombed in Essen."

"Ich habe keine Papiere. Ich habe sie verloren, als mein Pherd ging durch und ich fiel in das Dirkicht."

"I have no papers. I lost them when my horse bolted and I fell off in the thickets."

"Bitte, ich bin nur ein Deutscher Zivilist."

"Please, I am only a German civilian."

[Otto Wolff]

OOC: Since there's so much talking, I've left the translations out of this post, just to make it easier to read. So... just assume everyone is talking in German all the time, please.

The girl wavered precariously when Otto confronted her and she did not give the Gestapo officer an answer straight away. Otto almost extended a hand to grab her and to keep her steady, but then the young woman seemed to get over the dizzy spell. She gathered her courage and finally answered in German, assuring that she wasn't the Night Rider and that she had lost her papers when falling off the horse. Otto frowned at this, it seemed a little bit too convenient. The girl told about her uncle living in Vichy and Otto listened to her silently, making a mental note of every word she said. Strangely, it seemed to take her some effort to speak and there was something about her German... Otto just couldn't say what it was.

"Bitte, ich bin nur ein Deutscher Zivilist," the girl pleaded, but the next moment her eyes rolled back and she was falling down, unconscious. Otto snapped into action, just barely grabbing the young woman's arms before she touched the ground, preventing her from hitting her head as she fell. The Scharführer's hand went to his weapon instinctively, as if he was expecting some kind of an attack. The girl had gone perfectly limp and Otto eased her down on the ground, the villagers around the young woman moving back a few steps, looking confused.

Well, wasn't this just great? Now she certainly could not be questioned. The Kriminalkommissar let out an irritated growl and released his hold of the girl. He straightened up, glancing at the Scharführer. "Carry her to the Kübelwagen, sit her down on the bench. The driver and the motorcycle escorts can keep an eye on her, try to wake her up. I'm sure she will be back with as very soon, just a little too much excitement for her, I guess," the man said with a sigh. He didn't really need any further complications, but there was something very odd about the girl and Otto was going to find out just what it was.

The Scharführer acknowledged the order and ordered a Schütze to help him grab hold of the girl and soon the two soldiers were hauling the girl towards the Kübelwagen. The vehicle had only a canvas roof and it had been pulled down, but the driver still did so and the two men propped the girl on the seat. The Scharführer relayed the Gestapo officer's orders to the driver and the four men occupying the motorcycles. As if the woman had been the most dangerous enemy in the world, the men sitting in the side cars of the motorcycles pointed their machine guns at the girl. The driver remained standing next to the vehicle, staring at the girl thoughtfully.

Meanwhile, Otto motioned at the other Gestapo officer and the men walked away from the villagers for a while. The Kriminalkommissar had one of pensive looks on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed in deep thought and the man rubbed his cleanly shaven chin with his hand. The younger Gestapo officer glanced briefly towards the Kübelwagen and then back at his superior. "The women just fall at your feet here in France, don't they?" the man remarked with a sly grin.

Otto scoffed at the man, waving his hand around slightly. "Oh, please, Brenner. I did not even so much as touch her."
"Have you tried looking... just less scary, maybe?" Brenner asked impishly, he knew Otto was too occupied with just thinking about this case to get truly irritated with his joking around.
Otto's eyes fixed on Brenner and he gave his friend a dark scowl. Brenner just lifted his hands and shrugged. "I rest my case," the man remarked in his relaxed tone, he was used to getting such sullen looks from Otto. "So, what do you think about her, Otto?"

The older broad-shouldered man shook his head. "If she was a German civilian, why would she react so strongly to just being asked for her papers?" the man contemplated, slowly tapping a forefinger against his chin.

Brenner stole a glance at the unconscious young woman again and raised his eyebrows. "Maybe she is just the delicate sort? You know, you did appear a bit... threatening. Maybe it just got to her."

"Delicate? Carrying a knife, riding a horse and cursing at Waffen-SS after resisting capture? Oh, please. She is as delicate as my ex-wife. If she was truly as innocent as she tried to appear, she wouldn't be half as scared as she was now. A German civilian would know that they are much better off talking with Gestapo than these French peasants. Conveniently losing her papers, forgetting to tell me her name... And there was something to the way she talked..."

"So, you think that little urchin is some scary 'Night Rider' of the resistance?" Brenner asked, giving Otto a disbelieving look. He knew that resistance fighters could come from all kind of different walks of life, but she couldn't see that young woman destroying a munitions depot.

"I wouldn't be able to tell that quite so soon. She said she has family in Vichy. I'd expect that if she has a German name, we might be able to find his uncle even if she refused to co-operate. She has a horse, an uncle in Vichy and quite conveniently, no papers. I bet if we had the soldiers search for them at the location where she fell of her mount, they wouldn't find anything. No... I'll have to look into this more."

Brenner held up a forefinger, an overly enthusiastic expression on his face. "Oh, yes. This calls for an investigation, I believe!"

Otto stared at the other man for a moment, appearing quite unimpressed. "Don't try doing impressions of me, Brenner. You're worse at it than at poker. Now, stop playing around and try to do your job for once. Question the villagers, see if anyone has seen the girl before or knows anything about her. I'll see to the girl."

Brenner sighed tiredly and adjusted his cap. "Very well, Herr Kriminalkommissar," the man said blandly, starting his journey back to the villagers. Otto turned around and headed to the Kübelwagen to see if the girl had already woken up. The driver had not really done much to wake the girl up and he was just staring at the young woman blankly. His eyes were fixed on her chest, it was rising and falling steadily with her breathing. Otto banged his jackboot noisily at the side of the vehicle and the driver jumped, averting his eyes from the girl very quickly.

Otto grabbed the girl by her shoulder and shook her slightly, just to see if she might be waking up. His grip was firm, but he obviously had no intention of hurting the woman in any way. He waited until the girl's blue eyes fluttered open. "Wake up, Fräulein. I'm not quite done questioning you yet, but I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me. If you are feeling ill, I can provide you with some water. But we could start with you telling me your name and place of residence. I believe that is simple enough, is it not?"

[lisawieserman1941]

Dosed in an unconscious state was a blessing in disguise, shielded comfortably from the bleak gravity of the situation. Lisa was woken from her reverie as her eyes fluttered conforming with the azure sky. At first she turned her head to the right where the soldiers rooted themselves. In two side cars were heavily armed SS troopers brandishing machine-guns, with Lisa the target of their imaginary cross hairs. The young partisan exploded in measured surprise, relying on English to stall the inevitable.

"What am I doing in this military vehicle?!" she asked in an impudent modulation working her way out of a haze. "Stop it!! I am unarmed, dammit!! Nicht bloody shiessen!! Or does the Waffen SS kill in cold blood?!" Lisa inquired enveloped in a sassy enunciation.

A voice in German snared her attention as she then turned left. The Gestapo undoubtedly heard her speak in English, or rather accented American. Lisa fell into her hands recalling how she laid verse to her native tongue, so resigned herself to the aperture of his inquest, expelling a generous sigh, now at the mercy of The Predator and the trigger happy subordinates under his command. Prying herself loose from her hands she spoke to him in English with her composure settled.

"Lisa Wieserman...US Sergeant...156-54-4326," she joked as if a POW stating his name, rank and serial number.

Fear was evacuated whilst an enterprising twist took its stead. She was prepared to accept the skeletal hand of Death. A wry grin etched her sculpted features having been satisfied she had done her duty for her country and would accept the dire consequences of her unwarranted feats.

"I am half German on my father's side and half French. I live in Vichy with my Aunt and Uncle having been evicted from my home in America. As I told you before, my grandmother lives in Essen but was bombed by the allies so resides in the Black Forest with her sister. I wanted to go to Germany, but there was no room. I am a Wehrmacht sympathizer having relatives serving under the regular army. I don't trust you Nazis. I have reasons to believe you defy the Geneva Convention," was all Lisa would confess to her accuser, ripping her attention off him and staring straight ahead, pushing out any apprehension that may have once lingered, adopting a dauntless bearing.

[Otto Wolff]

It was amazing how quickly the previously unconscious woman could snap out of it and change her demeanor completely. She was already wide awake and spouting angry words at the soldiers around her, making Otto tilt his head back with incredulity. The strangest thing was, she wasn't talking in German anymore, but in English. She sounded very American and had a way to her English which Otto could almost pinpoint... but then again, he wasn't that familiar with all the different accents when it came to English. Did it really matter? She had lied to Otto and this fact made the man only wonder what other information she was keeping a secret.

When asked for her name, the girl seemed to mock the Gestapo officer, pretending to behave like a soldier. She did give him a name, though, and it was Lisa Wieserman. Otto wondered if that was really her name, but made a mental note to remember the name for later, just in case. The young woman found the courage to even grin before explaining her origins. Half-German, half-French, relatives in Vichy, grandmother who lived in Essen before the bombing. Otto memorized all of these things and kept his silence, not wanting to interrupt the girl. Her next words made the man scoff, however. "I don't trust you Nazis. I have reasons to believe you defy the Geneva Convention," the girl blurted out before averting her eyes away from the tall Gestapo officer.

"You have reasons to believe we defy the Geneva Convention? Oh dear. Should I start getting worried?" Otto asked mirthfully. The English language seemed to come to him very easily, obviously he had spoken it quite a bit before. He did have an accent, but it would have been difficult to pinpoint the man's origins based on it. He spoke with a lazy slur, his R's rolling out leisurely, his voice as smooth and steady as before. The man smiled, but it was a wolf's grin. His sharp teeth were just waiting to bite down at the pulsing jugular of his enemy and to squeeze at her throat relentlessly until all signs of struggle slowly ceased. "I see you realized it is quite pointless to put up an act. Being half-German, you must have realized that you are among friends here. Even if you find it difficult to trust us Nazis, although I would prefer the term Nationalsozialist, myself."

These uniformed friends around Lisa were still staring at her, the machine guns still fixed at her. Most likely the discussion that passed between the Gestapo officer and the blonde woman was not understood by most of the men here, but if it bothered them, they did not show any signs of it. "So. Fräulein Wieserman, if I might kindly ask for you to step out of the vehicle," Otto requested politely, opening the door of the Kübelwagen for the girl and waiting for her to get up from the seat. She hardly had any choice in the matter, anyway, and disobeying the tall man's orders might have ended very unpleasantly. "I would like to exchange a few words with you. I'm sorry if I have startled you, but fortunately you seem to be feeling... much better now," the man arched an eyebrow. It was as he had thought, the girl was certainly not as delicate as she might have seemed at first. It would be interesting to delve into her mind and Otto felt slightly gleeful just thinking about it.

Waiting patiently until the woman had clambered out of the car, Otto grabbed a black folder from the front seat of the vehicle, pointing a hand towards the two-storied building, one he had asked to be double-checked just earlier. "This way, please. I would not wish the presence of the Waffen-SS to intimidate you too much. And it is so much more comfortable to sit down while we discuss things, I believe you would agree."

Two soldiers of the SS were standing near the door of the house and both seemed to sharpen up when they realized that the Gestapo officer was headed in their direction. Otto pointed at one of them. "Sie, Schütze, bleiben draußen. Sie, folgen Sie mir innen. Mitgekommen jetzt, Fräulein Wieserman," Otto glanced briefly at the girl. The other SS soldier opened the front door to let the Gestapo officer and his interrogatee in, following them inside. The door opened up into a small hallway and there was a kitchen immediately to the right. The kitchen had a very rustic and homely feel to it, although the Gestapo officer did not seem to enjoy his surroundings. It was modestly decorated, with a table and four chairs around it, some kitchen necessities, an old stove and a wooden box for storing firewood. Besides the door in the hallway, there was only one other way out of the kitchen and Otto seemed content with it.

He glanced towards the kitchen table and moved in to pull out a chair for the young woman. "Bitte setzen Sie sich. Schütze, gehen Sie die andere Seite dieser Tür und schließen Sie es. Ich werde Sie auffordern, wenn ich Bedürfnis nach Ihnen habe." the Gestapo officer spoke politely, as if he was taking part in a pleasant small-talk in some party. Maybe that was why the quick salute of the Schütze seemed almost unfitting for the situation. The soldier soon closed the door behind him, leaving only Otto and Lisa in the kitchen.

Small dust particles were floating around in the scarce rays of sunlight that found their way through the worn curtains and the dirty glass of the window. Otto placed his folder on the table and took a seat in the chair opposite to Lisa. His dark eyes settled on the young woman and the man was silent for a moment, just observing her. Otto had no trouble looking her straight in the eyes and the man's gaze was still fixed on Lisa when he finally spoke. "Now, Fräulein Wieserman. We could start with you telling me what you were doing around here and why you felt it was necessary to lie to me," his voice was calm and hypnotic, almost beckoning for it's listener to just give up and tell the truth.


Translations:

"Sie, Schütze, bleiben draußen. Sie, folgen Sie mir innen. Mitgekommen jetzt, Fräulein Wieserman."
"You, Schütze, stay outside. You, follow me inside. Come along now, Fräulein Wieserman."

"Bitte setzen Sie sich. Schütze, gehen Sie die andere Seite dieser Tür und schließen Sie es. Ich werde Sie auffordern, wenn ich Bedürfnis nach Ihnen habe."
"Please, take a seat. Schütze, please go the other side of that door and close it. I will call for you if I have need of you."

[lisawieserman1941]

Unaffected by his arctic stare, Lisa felt like a bull ready to charge the Wolff, goring him with two razor sharp horns, wiping off wise ass grin, rendering it a piece of offending sliding flesh. She turned her fear inwards parading herself as a daring antithesis of her former self when they first met.

"Nice room you got here...Reminds me of home," she shared with the Gestapo man, leaning back in the chair, crossing her legs as if in complete comfort.

"So...You think I lied to you. Your assumption is indeed falsified information. I am German and a civilian, just like I told you when I was in a delicate state, maybe brought on by heat stroke. I have a boyfriend in the Wehrmacht. You Nazis are destroying Germany, while many soldiers who want no part of this war are forced into battle against their brothers. You see Americans have many ancestors in Germany, and I would expect so do the British and French. It is a blatant civil war like ours was in America. As for your second question, I was exercising my horse when your men abducted me, rather violently may I add," the young partisan answered in a soft voice, the purr of her accent a pleasure to most men.

[Otto Wolff]

The wooden chair creaked slightly as the blonde girl settled sitting into a casual position, crossing her legs as if in perfect comfort. Otto's expression remained calm and composed even when Lisa looked around, arrogantly noting how nice the room was. This was nothing but the girl's attempt of appearing as brazen and dauntless as possible and Otto remained silent, not responding to her attempt of irritating him. The man's gaze lingered lazily on the blonde for a moment before Otto occupied himself with opening the black folder, still listening to the girl as she kept talking.

"So...You think I lied to you. Your assumption is indeed falsified information. I am German and a civilian, just like I told you when I was in a delicate state, maybe brought on by heat stroke..." Lisa started and Otto arched an eyebrow quietly. Of course she had lied to him, she was lying to him right now. Otto did not really believe that the girl had suffered from a heat stroke. He was quite good when it came to judging a character and this girl didn't seem like the delicate type at all. Even the bravest or most foolish German civilian would have been on their toes around a Gestapo officer and this girl was acting as if she was enjoying afternoon coffee with an old friend.

"I have a boyfriend in the Wehrmacht. You Nazis are destroying Germany, while many soldiers who want no part of this war are forced into battle against their brothers," the girl continued and Otto tilted his head backwards slightly. These were some bold words. Had the relative safety of the French countryside made the girl so blind, was she not aware of what was happening around her? Not many people would have challenged National Socialism so openly, least of all in front of a Gestapo officer. The man smiled wryly, waiting until the girl had finished her explanation of how she had been only exercising her horse when she had been viciously attacked by the Waffen-SS. Otto slowly removed his peaked cap, setting it on the table and running a hand over his dark hair to make sure that it was neatly slicked back.

"Fräulein Wieserman, you do realize that making such statements against National Socialism is already a crime in itself? You could be arrested for such words. But for now... I shall forget these foolish words of yours and put them on the account of you being very young and in an agitated state of mind. But I advice you to refrain from making any further defeatist statements," Otto said in his low, hypnotic voice, not looking at Lisa as he spoke. His attention was in the papers found in his folder, his dark eyes skipping from one line to another almost absentmindedly.

He had several ways to break this girl, but he would use the more gentler methods first. She was quite alluring and Otto enjoyed listening to her talk, but he wasn't going to let himself get blinded by a pair of pretty blue eyes and a honeyed voice. If it would come to that, the Kriminalkommissar would resort to the more unpleasant means of interrogation, but he didn't see that as being necessary with this one. She might have been acting all tough and self-assured, but Otto had seen the same facade so many times before, he could see straight through it. The girl was scared... She was terrified and she was definitely guilty of something. Maybe she wasn't this Night Rider of the French resistance, but she was hiding something and Otto would find out her secret sooner or later. The thought filled him with a calm, knowing feeling. It was as if someone had presented him with a gift and all it needed was unwrapping.

"Now, let us return to these other things you said. Does your... boyfriend in the Wehrmacht have a name? I guess he could identify you if asked, to substantiate your story?" Otto glanced briefly at Lisa. "And I would also like to know the names of your relatives in Vichy, as well as your current address of residence."

The man awaited Lisa's answer, his self-confidence and arrogance evident in his deep-set eyes and in the way he casually held the elegant pen in his hand. It was as if he wasn't writing down information after all, but already just waiting to sign the young woman's death sentence. The dust particles floated around in the kitchen and for a moment the room felt very silent, save for the muffled sounds of someone yelling orders outside in the yard. The kitchen was supposed to have an idyllic, homely feel to it, but the presence of the Gestapo officer seemed to null any such sentiments completely. Instead the room felt cold, foreboding and suddenly, also very small.

Otto's head tilted to the side ever so slightly and he arched his eyebrows expectantly. "Go ahead."

[lisawieserman1941]

"What? Spill my guts...Herr Kriminalkommissar? If you are not aware of this American slang saying, it basically means to spill the truth," Lisa answered in an presumptive manner, while annoyance suffocated her at being closely interrogated, reminding her of her intrusive father when he inquired of her whereabouts the night before each and every day.

Uncrossing her legs, Lisa folded her arms and leaned on the table allowing a scowl to intercept the Gestapo, one she usually unleashed upon any figure of authority in her turbulent past. The suspected partisan let his assuming nature skip over, working on meditating out all negativity derived from the formal inquest. She felt the silence groping the distance between them, taking shots at her nerves Lisa had steadied. The scenario was unwinding before her like a tangled movie tape. There she was in the company of a man who could lay siege to her death by a simple order to his men. The Wolff's prying of her person sent her into another plane of reality, as if the nightmares of being taking down by the notorious Waffen SS would eventually be her calling and undoing.

Am I psychic? Will those infernal dreams which disturbed me into a state of chaos eventually come true? Have I lived my death from a level of unconsciousness, a repetitive torture rendered by my own sleep? I can't shake this guy. How long can I keep this up? Lisa asked herself as her walls of fortitude were crumbling into piles of a torn abandon.

"I cannot tell you my friend in the Wehrmacht. I would be betraying his confidence and trust in me. He is a good soldier, recently sent to the front by his own accord. He knows only that I am an American from New York who befriended him when he was on leave," Lisa said with her hands clenching into fists, loathing talking about her personal affairs.

"My Uncle is Paul, my Aunt, Lisette. I can't pronounce their last name nor care to. You can find them at my Uncle's paint shop in Vichy, a reputed portrait maker, held in high regard for his work by esteemed ranking German officer customers. And don't ask me the name of the dirt road we live on. I don't understand French. Ask him, why don't you?" The young woman added as she waited for heavier grilling, her breathing slipping towards a labored front drowning under the Gestapo man's ultimate trap.

[Otto Wolff]

The Gestapo officer's expression remained unchanged as his seemingly relaxed interrogatee explained the term "spilling ones guts" to him. Otto knew a multitude of idioms in English and found it quite amusing to have this young girl explaining the finer points of English language to him. An impulsive person might have lashed out at the girl, grown irritated over her haughty attitude towards an authority figure, but Otto did not let it get to him. He wasn't the one in trouble here, the girl was, and she was trying very hard to seem undaunted by the situation. The more she clashed with Otto, the more the Gestapo officer's confidence grew. It was like watching a prey animal trashing around in a net, getting itself more and more entangled with each panicked movement.

The blonde girl was staring at him from the other side of the table, scowling like a rebellious child. Otto confronted the girl's glare with a blank, dispassionate expression, making it quite clear that he wasn't going to let the girl affect his mood in any way. Finally the young woman started answering the Gestapo officer's questions, telling him that she did not want to reveal the identity of her Wehrmacht "friend". Otto very much doubted if the girl even had such a friend in the Wehrmacht. Even though the soldiers might occasionally get involved with the local women, it was never very safe for the women themselves. Many of them would immediately be considered traitors to their country by most of the population, only causing them to get into serious trouble over such relationships. This happened, of course, quietly in the background, but the Germans were not blind to such things. They simply did not care when it came to meaningless bickering among the French peasants, unless it was something that might have hindered their own efforts.

When Lisa went on to tell the names of her relatives, Otto wrote them down and frowned slightly when the girl exclaimed that she could not pronounce the French family name and neither did she care to. Still, the Kriminalkommissar marked down Lisa's uncle's profession as an esteemed portrait maker. That would be more than enough to find these relatives of hers, if she was telling the truth, of course. If she wasn't, there were ways of making her do so and Otto knew he wasn't done with this one quite yet. The dark-haired man stifled a sigh when Lisa said that she did not know the address of their residence either. Could she really be this incompetent in the French language and still be able to live in France? Maybe she got by with her good looks, only.

Setting down the pen and closing the folder slowly, Otto's gaze pierced the girl again. She had given Otto information, indeed, but had done it with such reluctance that Otto knew something was amiss with her. The Kriminalkommissar's expression changed slightly, in what was probably supposed to be a smile. "Fräulein Wieserman... I'm sure by now you have already realized that we are here because of the sabotaging attempts by the local resistance. You told me you are a Wehrmacht sympathizer, so I'm sure that, in all honesty, you want us to catch these criminals as much as I do," Otto spoke in a low voice, the English words coming out calculated and smooth. "Such attempts of sabotage only serve to cause suffering to these brave, innocent men you so much sympathize with. Imagine the young men on the Russian front, deprived of their supplies because some self-righteous 'Night Rider' of the resistance has decided to cut the supply line. So they suffer... Maybe this boyfriend of yours will be among the ones to freeze to death in the cold winter of Russia after his unit has failed to receive supplies. All of this, just because of these selfish fanatics with fancy ideals, but little if any conception of actual facts - or human compassion."

Otto tilted his chin down slightly as he looked at Lisa. "Now, would you wish to cause such pain and suffering to these innocent Germans - soldiers of the Wehrmacht - only fighting for their country?" the man asked, soon shaking his head, as if to answer the question for Lisa.

"Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't. But... you can be of assistance and save the lives of all those fine young men, be a hero to them. If you know any names, if you can identify any collaborators or have heard anything about them, even if it is only rumors, all you need to do is tell me. Afterwards, you can return to find your horse and return to your relatives, feeling proud and content, knowing that you have saved some lives today," Otto smiled slightly, nodding at the young woman encouragingly.

[lisawieserman1941]

Letting free a laugh teeming with conviction, Lisa was at the ready to face off with the Gestapo man, an expert at retrieving information.

He will get no satisfaction, since there will be no breaking of me. Be it catching me in a fabricated testimony by my own undoing, or to physically arrest me to obedience by any means of torture, I shall render his objective obsolete, Lisa chanted to herself raising a finger to her chin, obliging the enemy with a game of chess by a Nazi's recollection of superior mind games.

"You should know better than me, the Waffen SS get the first bite out of any ammunition and worldly comforts. The Wehrmacht come second. Anyway, if I knew of the whereabouts of the resistance fighters, or the Night Rider, you would get no affirmation out of me. I would be a traitor to my country. France are our allies. And suppose my friend is on another front?" she added. "I am sure one sabotage will not deplete the mighty German Empire of its countless armory made by the sweat of slaves, nor the food they steal from farmers and the like."

Lisa then pulled in her chair so she could lean into the dragon's lair.

"You think I am an idiot, don't you? A naive country girl who knows nothing of politics. Think again, Herr Kriminalkommissar. America does not breed ignorance. You are wasting your time. I am not the one whom you seek. Every question you elicit will be met by a challenge, even if you resort to physical discomfort. You shall never break my spirit."

The American partisan then sat back in her chair and kicked it out a ways, a smile erupting as if the interrogation proceeding was a mere walk in the park.

[Otto Wolff]

The girl laughed casually at the Gestapo officer and Otto only stared at the girl, staying silent and seemingly emotionless. Lisa was explaining to him how the Waffen-SS always got their share of the supplies before Wehrmacht. Otto listened to her pompous words half-heartedly, already contemplating on what to do with the girl. Clearly she did not realize the seriousness of the situation, or then she plain and simple just did not care, which was also very stupid of her. Maybe the American figured that Otto would soon get annoyed enough with her to just let her go and move on to interrogate someone else.

"You think I am an idiot, don't you? A naive country girl who knows nothing of politics. Think again, Herr Kriminalkommissar. America does not breed ignorance," the girl stated proudly, leaning back in her chair with an arrogant smile. Otto smiled back at her, but the smile did not reach his eyes and it was meant more as a demeaning gesture. "Oh, no, such a thought would never cross my mind, Fräulein Wieserman. I see now that you are a very determined young woman, not easily daunted. I guess the only thing I can do right now is... to thank you for your co-operation. I'm sure that without your generous tips, we would have not had any chance of catching these saboteurs. Once we have finished our business here, you are free to go," the dark-haired man said, his tone of voice pleasantly conversational. The Gestapo officer picked up his peaked cap from the kitchen table, placing it on his head and sliding the folder of papers under his arm as he got up from his seat.

"Well, let us go to see what we can do about these saboteurs, then," Otto said with a treacherous, mocking smile. "Schütze! Wir werden hier getan, kommen Sie und eskortieren Sie den Fräulein!" the man commanded in a stronger voice and the door opened up immediately, the SS soldier moving in to grab Lisa roughly by her arm. Otto motioned a hand towards the door leading outside and the soldier escorted the blonde woman back to the yard where the group of villagers was still standing, fidgeting nervously as the younger Gestapo officer asked them questions.

Obviously Otto had no actual intentions of letting Lisa go quite yet, as he had the two SS soldiers escort Lisa after him towards the crowd. Otto's piercing gaze traveled over the people outside and Brenner shot his superior a quizzical look. "Cette jeune femme parfaite a judicieusement décidé de coopérer avec moi et a montré un saboteur parmi vous. Dieser junge Mann, da drüben. Bringen Sie ihm hier!" Otto commanded, pointing towards a young Frenchman with blonde hair. He couldn't have been more than twenty years old and his face drained of all colour as one of the soldiers from Waffen-SS grabbed his arm, dragging the poor villager away from the others. "It was this one, was it not?" Otto glanced towards Lisa, who was still being closely guarded by the two privates. He made it seem as if Lisa had given up the name of the man and no doubt all the villagers believed the Kriminalkommissar's seasoned act. The villagers could not understand German or English, but putting one plus one together in this situation did not require any skills in those languages.

The look on the Gestapo officer's eyes became accusing as he stared at Lisa. He did not need to say anything, the message was easily understandable. He made it clear that Lisa's silence and arrogant attitude would be costly, only not to Lisa herself. The young, scared man was forced some distance away from the crowd and Otto's thumb moved to open the button of the gun holster on his belt. Pulling out the Luger, he flicked the safety off and turned his attention to the alleged 'saboteur'. One nod from the Kriminalkommissar, and the bulky Schütze forced the young man to drop down on his knees. The Kriminalkommissar handed the black folder to the soldier nearest to him, his face hard and emotionless. Someone in the crowd cried and a woman yelled for "Julien", but the automatic weapons of the Waffen-SS were more than enough to force the poor villagers to stay put. They knew that no amount of heroics would be enough to save the young man now.

Otto let the horror and fear sink into the crowd for a while and soon the man raised his Luger, stepping behind the young man. A loud shot rang on the village square, the sharp sound bouncing and echoing from the walls of the buildings for a while. The man slumped down, landing lifelessly on his face. Blood already began pooling under him, but Otto Wolff seemed untouched by the young, innocent man's fate. Some of the villagers were crying now, a few of them staring at Lisa, clearly accusing the young woman of the death of their beloved Julien. To them Lisa was still an outsider, not known too well by any of them and many of them no doubt thought that Lisa was trying to save her own skin and giving out false information to the Gestapo. Otto himself did not actually find it very pleasant killing innocents, but the lives of a few French peasants was a small price to pay for the continued security of the Reich. If that was what it would take, then Otto would not hesitate for a moment to perform his duty for the Fatherland.

The uniformed officer of the Gestapo flicked the Luger's safety back on and turned around to look at Lisa as he slid the pistol back in it's holster. He moved to the young woman, patting her on the shoulder as if Lisa was one of the Kriminalkommissar's most valued assistants. "I think we still might have something more to talk about, don't you think? Or need I go on like this? Believe me, more will die because of you... unless you choose to co-operate, of course," the man said in a low, threatening voice, although a seemingly friendly smile played on his lips as he spoke.

Translations:

"Schütze! Wir werden hier getan, kommen Sie und eskortieren Sie den Fräulein!"
"Schütze! We are done here, come and escort the Fräulein out!"

"Cette jeune femme parfaite a judicieusement décidé de coopérer avec moi et a montré un saboteur parmi vous. Dieser junge Mann, da drüben. Bringen Sie ihm hier!"
"This fine young woman has wisely decided to co-operate with me and has pointed out a saboteur amongst you. That young man, over there. Bring him here!"

[lisawieserman1941]

Yelling for the Gestapo to stop, Lisa tried to wrestle from the two soldiers who had their eyes peeled on her, their sub-machine guns trained on their captive. As she lunged for Wolff, the resistance fighter was met by the barrel of the closest guard who rammed it into her stomach so hard, she dropped to a knee cradling herself doubled over. The monster executed an innocent making her look like the culprit behind the slaying. Shaking her head at the Nazi, Lisa released verbal wrath, which also served to expose the Kriminalkommissar as the sole murderer, allowing the French people to realize it was his merciless act in a nefarious intent to break her.

"You cold blooded killer!! He was innocent.!! You Nazi bastard!" The accusation met its mark, with the crowd's attention now raked on the executioner.

Lisa did not have to know the language for them to understand the tragedy of what had transpired, now seeing the American was not at fault simply by her actions alone, and the obvious anguish she suffered, raising her voice at the Gestapo in a state of rage no one in their right mind would muster the courage for.

Standing up, she was met by the duo's cold stares, their eyes a shadow cast by the green rims of their helmets as the sun baked upon the notorious Waffen SS, with intimidating MP-40s now leveled at her chest. They appeared to lust for taking her out at their superior's order.

"No more killing!! I should have known a typical Nazi would resort to this merciless atrocity!! I am the Night Rider!! There, you have your confession!! Shoot me!! Not those who submit to your reign!!" Lisa finally admitted, expecting a death sentence would be the outcome, but could not stand by and allow another to be terminated by her stubborn air. She stood at attention, giving him and all the SS Soldaten a mock salute, as if it would be her final gesture. Her expression was cold, that of a battle hardened partisan who was the unfortunate witness of the grizzly scene.

[Otto Wolff]

Otto faced the string of insults without even blinking, the man calmy listening to the angry words pouring from the girl's mouth. His face was nothing but an emotionless mask and he did not care about the horrified crowd, the man lying dead on the ground or the blonde girl yelling at him. The Kriminalkommissar hooked a thumb under his black belt and arched an eyebrow at the young woman who was now clambering back to her feet after being punched with a rifle by one of the soldiers.

"No more killing!! I should have known a typical Nazi would resort to this merciless atrocity!! I am the Night Rider!! There, you have your confession!! Shoot me!! Not those who submit to your reign!!" the young woman yelled, anger and defiance thick in her voice. Otto shot the woman a short, wry smile. She could have been lying just to save the lives of the villagers, but for some reason Otto felt that this wasn't the case. Her attitude during this whole exchange had been curious to say the least and she had been behaving far too gutsily to be just another simple civilian. Otto was quite certain that he had indeed caught the Night Rider and the thought made him feel somewhat pleased with himself. Another job well done.

"And just think if you had admitted the truth earlier, the boy would still be alive. Quite unfortunate, is it not?" Otto asked, glancing briefly over his shoulder towards the lifeless young man. It was shame, of course, that acquiring the information had required the life of an innocent, but it was a small price to pay for catching a criminal such as this pretty little thing. Brenner appeared next to Otto, glancing at his superior and then at the girl, as if he had a very hard time believing that the girl was a partisan.

"Gestellt einige Handschellen auf sie, wir werden ihren zurück im Kübelwagen transportieren. Ich denke, dass wir Verpackung hier bald in Gang bringen können. Bringen Sie sie ins Auto, ich werde bald dort sein," Otto waved a hand at the soldiers and one of them moved in to pull Lisa's hands roughly behind her back so the girl could be handcuffed. After the handcuffs were in place, the bulky soldier grabbed hold of the them and, with a sharp push, forced the young woman to start moving towards the Kübelwagen. Otto stared after the fresh prisoner and her captors for a moment, soon turning around to exchange a few words with Brenner. "Wie steht's mit den Dorfbewohnern, fanden Sie irgendetwas?" Otto asked, moving his hands behind his back and grabbing his wrist with the other hand.

Brenner shrugged casually. "Nichts viel, einige Menschen von der Außenseite des Dorfes, von den Farmen. Jeder zeigte mir ihre Identifizierung und gab mir keine Schwierigkeiten. Ich denke dass Mädchen der einzige Fang des Tagesm," the light-haired man answered, appearing quite anxious to leave the village already. The younger Gestapo officer held little love for tasks such as this and like Otto, he disliked France and her people. He knew enough French to get by and Otto kept dragging him along on these assignments due to his language skills and also because the fact that the Kriminalkommissar trusted the younger man more than any other of his underlings. Brenner stared expectantly at Otto, who considered the situation for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed. "Sehr gut. Lassen Sie die Dorfbewohner gehen. Wir werden verlassen und das Mädchen mit uns nehmen, ich bin sicher, dass er viel mehr haben wird, um uns über den lokalen Widerstand zu erzählen."

The younger man nodded, flashing a relieved smile and turning around to relay these orders to the Waffen-SS. As soon as the soldiers stepped aside and the villagers realized that the Germans were leaving, a dark-haired woman dashed from the crowd to kneel next to the dead man, crying and wailing. Otto glanced at the woman, wondering for a moment if he could have made the girl talk without shooting the civilian. It was too late to speculate about such things now and it was, after all, wartime. People died, sacrifices had to be made, it was as simple as that. The Gestapo officer strode casually to the Kübelwagen, where Lisa had been forced to sit on the backseat under the vigilant watch of the SS guards. The door of the vehicle was opened for the Kriminalkommissar as he neared the vehicle and Otto sat next to the girl, his lips contorting into a lazy smile as he watched her.

There were still so many questions left to ask.


Translations:

"Gestellt einige Handschellen auf sie, wir werden ihren zurück im Kübelwagen transportieren..."
"Put some handcuffs on her, we will transport her back in the Kübelwagen. I think we can start wrapping up here soon. Take her to the car, I will be there shortly."

"Wie steht's mit den Dorfbewohnern, fanden Sie irgendetwas?"
"What of the villagers, did you find anything?"

"Nichts viel, einige Menschen von der Außenseite des Dorfes, von den Farmen..."
"Nothing much, a few people from outside the village, from the farms. Everyone showed me their identification and didn't give me any trouble. I think that girl's the only catch of the day."

"Sehr gut..."
"Very well. Let the villagers go. We will leave and take the girl with us, I'm sure she will have much more to tell us about the local resistance."