The Twisted Patriot Read online

  Sebastian felt that heaven was not exactly the most appropriate term to use and should they be discovered hell would surely follow hot on the heels of that.

  However, given that Victoria was a loose cannon and could expose him for being her lover as she had little to lose, given her known devotion to the regime, he relented and unlocked the door.

  Victoria entered, closing the door behind her, sliding the lock across the door while facing him, and he had to admit she was looking as inviting as ever with her full bosom fully on view, given the low cut of her black silk dress.

  “God, my English Adonis, you look awful!” she exclaimed before running her fingers along her tongue and began unbuttoning his pinstriped trousers.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Also a big dollop of gratitude for leaving me in the company of von Helldorf. What a thug!”

  “Ah, don’t worry about him. He’s all right and is just another of the old ruling class trying to impress the new lot with carrying out their duties to the full. He’s one of many and there are harder ones than him, speaking of which . . .” she smiled, winking at him and taking his hard as a rock penis between her hands.

  “Besides, my love, he is probably upset at being replaced by you in my affections. You are a much better lover as there are so many things I have been able to teach you whereas he was far too conservative and probably owed much to the years of marriage to that bag of a wife of his.”

  This is just turning out to be even more of a nightmare day than I could ever have imagined, thought Sebastian, threatened by the bruiser of a Count, who turns out to be the man he displaced in the bed of his best friend’s stepmother – as Oliver Hardy would yell at Stan Laurel, “that’s another fine mess you got us into”, only he was all alone on this one and it was his own goddamn fault.

  His thoughts were brushed aside by the descent of Victoria’s mouth on his erect penis though it was hardly ecstasy he felt as she bit the sides and then took him full in her mouth but even though he pulled her hair and clenched his teeth to suppress the agony she just broke off to laugh and wink up at him.

  Thankfully given the stinging sensation he felt in his penis he came almost immediately and was quickly smothered in kisses by her luscious lips leaving lipstick all over his face and a salty taste in his mouth making him even thirstier than he had been before.

  Lunch went better than he had expected, given what had occurred in the pre-prandial drinks, and being best man he was seated at the top table with bride, bridegroom, and their respective parents.

  Also accorded elite status were the von Ribbentrops, he a plain-looking man with thin lips which to Sebastian suggested a person of weak and mean character while his wife was not at all bad-looking, though she could and did talk the hind legs off a donkey, which probably went a long way towards explaining who ran their household and why Herr von Ribbentrop took his frustrations out on his subordinates.

  Also on the table and far greater in stature both in appearance and character were the Goerings, and Stuart had to admit despite his loathing of the regime that Hermann was impressive and not just in his appetite for food and drink.

  Large as he was, his face was not unattractive and he had the capacity to liven up the table with jokes both bawdy and political while reminiscing about his days as a fighter ace in Baron von Richtofen’s, or as he was better known, the Red Baron’s squadron, from whom he had taken over when the legendary fighter ace was shot down the day before he was due to go on leave.

  These were things that von Ribbentrop patently could not outdo and while one of their lesser vices was their mutual attraction to the aristocracy – Goering having married a rich heiress who gave him access to the wonderful Karinhall estate where he could enjoy his love of hunting game – it was clear both loathed each other.

  Goering’s beautiful wife was delightful and radiated warmth, though it was easy pickings for her as she sat beside Henrietta’s father, who was devilishly good looking with his thick grey hair, green eyes and high cheekbones and possessed an easy charm which had already seduced his master, and while Goering’s wife was no fool she too had fallen for him in a big way.

  Sebastian was seated beside an attractive-looking blonde, Anita von Proost, whose family owned a castle in Hitler’s favoured Bavaria, and was a childhood friend of Henrietta – on his other side was a woman in her forties called Heidi Junger, who Stuart surmised definitely wanted to live up to her name.

  Both turned out to be excellent company – Heidi was married to another Foreign Ministry official – although he still felt unnerved by the conversation with von Helldorf who he noted was also on the table while Victoria barely acknowledged his presence when he had finally pulled himself and his trousers together.

  The lunch itself suggested that anyone thinking there was war ahead belonged elsewhere, as amidst the crystal and finest china and gold platter for the married couples’ table there was a sumptuous feast – Sebastian wasn’t sure whether this was for the benefit of Eric and Henrietta or to impress Goering and von Ribbentrop.

  Sebastian had no hesitation in tucking into the foie gras with the finest Sauterne from France, followed by rare roast beef with a vintage burgundy, wild boar, which Goering swore he had personally shot and no one was going to argue with him. However, many would have been tempted to ask the former champagne salesman von Ribbentrop whether he had a neat sideline going in his former occupation. There followed wild duckling with wild strawberries, orange slices soaked in cognac and rounded off with excellent cheeses from Germany and France.

  Sebastian noted with some satisfaction that if Goering was to drink as much as he was doing during the lunch that the Luftwaffe would have trouble getting off the ground, as receiving coherent orders would be impossible, though he was capable of making sharp witty remarks such as, “Ach, I only joined the Nazis because I went to join the Free Masons and their office was closed and the Nazis’ one was open.”

  Unlike von Helldorf, who studiously avoided making conversation with Sebastian, Goering leant over the table at one point, which took some steadying of the round table given that the Reichsmarschall’s belly had the power to send it toppling, and engaged him in small talk.

  The slight drawback for Sebastian was that he was incapable of returning any anecdotes on hunting game or indeed flying, though he was fascinated by Goering’s tales of duels in the sky with the Allies in the First World War and anecdotes of von Richtofen, whose son was rising high in the Luftwaffe hierarchy.

  Finally having lulled Sebastian into a Bacchanalian type trance about tales of daring do and stalking deer, Goering addressed the real topic he was interested in.

  “Now, young man, do you really think that England will want another bloodbath so soon after the Great War over a faraway piece of land called Danzig which is rightfully ours anyway?”

  Sebastian knew that most if not all ears, even those of Victoria and von Helldorf, were listening in on what his response would be, and he weighed up what he should answer, as he really didn’t need another open foe and one as powerful as Goering to be on his case.

  “Well, inexperienced as I am in these matters, Herr Reichsmarschall,” he smiled at Goering and received a reassuring one back, which gave him the confidence to go on, “I would say that while I may not know a lot about hunting matters, I know a bore when I see one and Chamberlain is just that. I am afraid for England’s sake that unfortunately he is not a wild one with two tusks but one you find on Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park or in a bar near closing time.

  “He is an honourable man but he is a pedant and will not cease once he has an issue he feels is worth taking on, a bit like a dog with a bone . . . No matter if you take it away and hide it, he will always find it and return with it between his teeth. So while that may sound ambivalent to you, it means if you keep on taking the bone away he will not give up trying to find it and come back to the table with it. It is hard to measure how savage his bite would be and I am afraid that is for you to find
out because it is not I who am pushing the dog to the limit.”

  Sebastian took a large gulp of the cognac in front of him and leant back in his chair and awaited the response from the corpulent uniformed Goering – whose array of medals glinted in the afternoon sun and almost blinded Sebastian – and was surprised to receive a nod of appreciation from von Helldorf and what he took to be similar tilts of the head from both of the male von Preetzs, while the pallid features of von Ribbentrop didn’t give away anything lest he contradict the Reichsmarschall’s response.

  Goering’s face remained impassive for what seemed to be an eternity and then his face creased into a large smile, making him look even more of a gargoyle, and brought his finely manicured but large hand onto the table clattering the glasses and sending the remaining cutlery flying, leading several waiters and guests at neighbouring tables to take evasive action.

  “Der Engländer ist gut!” he bellowed and laughed. “I like this dog image. Maybe, Herr Stuart, you could retrieve all the bones from this delicious feast and take them back to Chamberlain. Then he will be so confused as to which one is the most important one that we will be able to sweep up everything we need!” and again the former fighter ace turned rubber man mountain roared with laughter, provoking everyone else to as well through a mixture of sycophancy and a low level appreciation of what passed for humour.

  “That is very unwise diplomacy, Herr Reichsmarschall, if you would permit me to be so bold,” piped up von Ribbentrop, destroying the unanimity and good-humoured nature of the discussion in one sweep.

  “And what would you know about that, Herr Ribbentrop?” replied Goering, while winking at the rest of the table, knowing the non-usage of the von would irritate the Foreign Minister even more than the attack on his diplomatic credentials.

  True to form, the mournful looking von Ribbentrop rose to the bait, puffing out his chest and pursing his lips before launching into a diatribe against the English.

  “They are false people who no one can do business with because what they say is the direct opposite of what they really mean. They are truly despicable,” he stormed and his wife apart everyone else raised their eyes to the tented top.

  Goering, though, realizing the atmosphere had gone from warm to icy cold and in keeping with the sun gradually setting behind him refused to let Ribbentrop escape so lightly, knowing he was the only one of sufficient rank to be able to take him on.

  “Ah yes, Ribbentrop, of course you have great knowledge of the English, having been the ambassador there for so long. You gave us such useful insights into them as the railway timetables and what they had for tea – though you didn’t receive too many invitations – and how abominably treated you and your charming wife were,” Goering said and nodded to Ribbentrop’s spouse, who returned it with an icy stare.

  Ribbentrop for his part looked livid, biting his lip so it drew a little blood and looked even paler than prior to his foray into stirring up anti-English fervour had rebounded on him.

  “No, Ribbentrop, we must not let our adverse experiences at the hands of other nations colour our judgement. Look at me, I fought with them up there,” said Goering as he theatrically raised both thumbs to the sky. “And in the sky one misjudgement when you were in a dogfight could mean death as dear Manfred von Richtofen discovered and I have to say in that theatre – seldom has there been a better description for war than that one with so much drama and pathos and dark comedy – anyway it was as much as it can be a gentleman’s war and never did I receive a cowardly blow from one of the enemy.

  “In my view we will never be at war with them again because we understand each other and realize it isn’t worth drowning the soil with our youth’s blood for some piece of land that most of those fighting for couldn’t give two pfennigs for,” and with that Goering raised his glass, fixed his eyes on Sebastian and toasted him, leaving only Ribbentrop and his bossy wife to sulk together.

  *

  Despite his success with Goering, Sebastian decided it was time to take his leave of Berlin and all its contradictions and sinister atmosphere and head back to England – thus it was three days after the wedding that he was in his apartment packing his bags, having dispensed with Victoria for the last time, and it had been a farewell of chilly proportions.

  She had pouted and sulked and mimicked having an orgasm before climbing out of bed and claiming she would have him stopped at the station and arrested for being a spy, to which he laughed derisorily and replied while her devotion to the cause was faultless in her willingness to sleep with the “Party” she was not taken quite so seriously when she left the bedroom.

  Victoria hurled a few ornaments and feigned crying but Sebastian coolly opened the door slapped her on the bum and bade her farewell.

  Happily for Sebastian, her husband had interceded on his behalf and got him the paperwork allowing him to leave. He had found a berth on a boat bound for England out of Hamburg and would be leaving on the early morning train; though he had been tempted to travel via Paris, ultimately he had opted for the fastest way out of Germany.

  He had found it difficult to take leave of Eric when he and Henrietta had finally left, as dusk set after the wedding, knowing that the odds were, he might never see him again or if he did it could well be on the field of battle.

  “Let us hope, Sebastian, that it does not come down to that or at least that it does not impose on our friendship, as it is only through such relationships that come the end of the war will the two nations be able to rebuild their trust,” said Eric with his usual idealistic outlook on life.

  While Sebastian was aware that he had grown up a lot in the spell in Berlin, he acknowledged he was still just 22 and prevalent to the same uncertainties and anxieties that plagued any other person of his age and he realized that while he could perform adequately at one lunch with the adults, and Goering in particular, he did not have the capacity to do it regularly.

  Having finished his packing, he thought he would take in the balmy summer evening for one last time and go for a farewell drink at Kessler’s, though he reflected having the syrupy insincere and sleazy like charm of Kessler as his last memory of nightlife in a place he had come to like during his six-month sojourn was perhaps not such a good idea – but then, what the heck, he knew the place and felt secure there.

  Opening his thick oak front door to go and avail himself of the farewell cocktail, he stopped short in his tracks as he came up against the figure of von Helldorf standing on his mat and felt his knees go weak, thinking Victoria had spun her tale to her former lover, and he had needed no compunction in his role as Berlin police chief to come over in person and arrest an English spy and put one over the sinister secret police, the Gestapo.

  “Count! This is a surprise. Is it a farewell courtesy call and if so, maybe we could toast it at Kessler’s club or is this official? If so, I am surprised you would deem me worthy of an official visit, rather than sending some of your officers,” Stuart said, noticing that his sangfroid was belied by his quivering voice.

  Von Helldorf said nothing, but raised his middle finger to his lips and took the keys from Stuart’s hand, locked the door, and taking his arm led him to the darkened stairwell. As they descended step by step, Sebastian got less and less relaxed, thinking any moment now a shove and he would be lying dead at the bottom and it would be explained away as an unfortunate accident that he had tripped while trying to escape arrest.

  However, he decided not to make a run for it until he exited the building and saw the strength of the guard that von Helldorf had brought along because he was sure he could get the better of his companion.

  He knew he could not expect aid from within the block of apartments and indeed nobody appeared to be around even though it was early evening and many should have been returning from work, while even the guardian and his family had forsaken their habit of sitting outside in the courtyard for staying indoors with the windows shuttered even though it was still very warm.

  Von Helldo
rf uttered not one word as they came down the stairs, his boots clattering harshly on the stone floor the only sound, and the sweat pouring down Sebastian’s forehead began stinging his eyes so he could barely see but he did not dare raise his hands to clear them lest his captor think he was reaching for something more lethal.

  After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the bottom and walked down the narrow passageway to the great door that on the other side would herald for Sebastian his immediate future – either solution did not look too rosy.

  To his amazement as he exited with von Helldorf, who had finally let go of his arm so he could open the door, there was no one else save a chauffeur dressed in the uniform of a Berlin policeman.

  As the chauffeur saluted and moved to open the rear door of the Daimler, Sebastian turned to von Helldorf and stammered, “What the hell is going on, Count, am I under arrest or is this some charade to give me a fright before I leave this accursed city?”

  Von Helldorf smiled and proffered his hand to indicate his guest should get into the car.

  Sebastian had given up hope of making good his escape, shrugged his shoulders and clambered inside and sat down on the red leather seat, closely followed by von Helldorf.

  The Count removed his cap, smoothed back his hair, took out his gold cigarette case and offered one to Sebastian, who gladly accepted.

  Von Helldorf lit their respective cigarettes – Sebastian mused it was almost like the movement of a man who had just made love and was performing the last rites on the evening’s entertainment, though he sadly realized this was something more sinister – stretched out his legs and once the car had moved off, finally spoke.

  “Do not worry, Stuart, all will become clear soon enough, but I can confirm that you are indeed under arrest,” and with that he stubbed out his cigarette, settled the cap back over his eyes and dozed off, leaving Sebastian to fret over where and to whom he was being driven.

  CHAPTER FIVE