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  “Anything new, Herr Major?” Betz asked when he entered.

  “Sergeant, did you recall seeing anything in Mantz’s record indicating he was in the SS during the war?”

  Betz thought a moment and shook his head. “As a matter of fact, I don’t,” he said. “It doesn’t mean much. After the war most people tried to hide their wartime duties.”

  Dresner nodded. “I agree, but maybe in this case we need to find out a little more. Call Corporal Mahler in Berlin and see if he can dig some information out of the archives. It may be nothing, but you know I am always a little suspicious,” he said with a grin.

  Betz nodded. “Jawohl, Herr Major. I’m sure Mahler will be his usual efficient self.” Corporal Mahler had been the company armorer and had always made sure their weapons were maintained perfectly, and their ammunition accounted for to the round. He had returned to Berlin and had been given a job helping the Americans sort through the old Nazi records. Now he was at the National Archives. “I’ll bring them to you as soon as I get them,” Betz said.

  Dresner returned to his work. He was having that strange feeling like he got at the end of the war that something was getting ready to happen. What if this was something more sinister? He knew there were still Germans who felt the war should have continued – although those were now few and far between. It could also be a Soviet move against something close by. But this was far from their normal operations. The SS uniforms continued to upset him. Dresner had detested the SS even during the war. They were dangerous and if there was a group active, it would be a very bad thing. Then he thought about the Olympics coming in two years. Could that acid have been used to sabotage some buildings? The more he thought about it, the more his head began to ache. He picked up the telephone. A man answered after only a few rings.

  “Al, this is Rolf. You are helping build some of the facilities and buildings for the Olympics. I need to ask, what would several thousand gallons of nitric acid do to those buildings?”

  On the other end of the phone Al Anderson cringed. “Nitric acid? What potency?”

  “One hundred percent. There seems to have been a theft at the local fertilizer plant.”

  Anderson thought a minute. “Rolf, that stuff would eat up a foundation in a matter of days. Most of our work is reinforced concrete. That acid would eat through it, make it brittle and corrode the steel rods. Put people in the stadium, on the ski tower or in one of the dorms and it would collapse. Luckily, just about anyone would be able to see it. It would be hard to disguise. You think we are a target?”

  “I’m not sure. But you know I have to think about all possibilities.”

  “I tell you what Rolf, I’ll have my guys recheck what we have done so far. I’ll also have them check any tanks around the buildings just in case something might be stored close enough to do some damage. I’ll also get in touch with the other contractors and the Olympic organizers. We’ll take this as a possible threat and make sure it can’t happen. We’re lucky that this stuff is so corrosive. It can’t be stored for a long time, so it’s a little early to do us any harm. But better safe than sorry,” Anderson said.

  “Thanks Al. I may be premature, but I can’t think of a worse use for the stuff. If I’m lucky, someone will call and tell me it’s all an accounting error, but I don’t think so,” Dresner said to his friend.

  “No problem Rolf. I agree. If we do find something, I’ll let you know,” Anderson said.

  “Thanks Al,” he said before hanging up. At least that made him feel a little better. Al would make sure nothing harmed his buildings or equipment, and would alert the others. Next he picked up the phone to call the Olympic security people. They would be an extra bit of insurance.

  “There are people checking all the Olympic buildings and venues for traces of acid, Herr Colonel,” said Helmud Strasser, head of the SS security team. “It appears they have discovered our theft.”

  Müller sat back and pondered the situation. “This is unfortunate. Mantz told us they would never find out. It seems he was premature. At least they are looking in the wrong direction.”

  “Yes, Herr Colonel, but do they suspect Mantz? If they find out about him, it may lead to us,” said Strasser.

  Müller nodded. “I agree. We cannot be too careful. Make arrangements for Mantz to be followed. If he is suspect, we should know in a short period of time. Then we can act accordingly.”

  Strasser gave a salute and exited the room. Müller thought a moment. Getting rid of a team member would not be a good thing at this stage, but it may be necessary. Luckily he had no qualms about giving the order. He had done so on many such occasions. He got up from his desk and went down the hall and knocked lightly on a door.

  “Come in,” came the voice from inside. Müller entered and saluted General Kammler, seated in a shirt with plain trousers. “What is it Müller?” he asked pleasantly.

  “We may have a security breach. Strasser just reported the locals in Innsbruck are searching the Olympic grounds for evidence of nitric acid. So it appears they have discovered our theft. As a precaution, I am having Mantz followed for a while to make sure there are no suspicions of him.”

  Kammler nodded. “Very good. I am relieved they are searching the Olympic grounds. It means they suspect sabotage of the games. They will probably inspect local dams and bridges. As long as it remains there, we will not be discovered. What will you do if he is being watched?”

  “The usual, Herr General. There will be an accident,” Müller said calmly.

  “Make sure of it. I want nothing pointed in our direction. You might have Strasser be prepared in case Mantz starts driving to this facility and is followed. They might need to stop him before he gets here,” the general said.

  “Jawohl, Herr General!” Müller said as he saluted and left the room. Things had just become more complicated.

  Chapter 7

  Alarms

  Al Anderson had a bad day. He knew he was coming down with something and just didn’t feel like doing anything but go to bed. Helga had prepared the meal for the evening and had taken the night off. Mary served it, but he had only taken a bite before pushing the plate away. It wasn’t long after that when both Mary and Kate had come upstairs complaining about sleepiness and had gone to bed as well. He figured they might be coming down with the same thing. Must be a virus of some kind, he thought.

  Whatever it was kept him from getting to sleep. He tossed and turned. Late in the evening he heard what he thought was a diesel engine near the entrance of the valley. Seeing Mary was sound asleep, he got up and put on his robe to see what was going on.

  Ten minutes later, Al rushed into the room desperately trying to wake Mary. It seemed to take forever for her to come awake enough to move. “Get up quick,” he said hurriedly. “We have to get Kate and get out of here,” he nearly shouted. Kate was just as difficult to awaken, but soon all three were rushed downstairs and out to the garage. Al nearly threw his still groggy wife and daughter into the Pontiac, started the engine and slammed the gearshift into reverse. The rear wheels spun on the light gravel as he backed the car out of the garage and into the courtyard, then shifting into drive, spun gravel against the house as he forced the car through the gate and down the road. Picking up speed, Al thought he was home free until he saw a lone figure in his headlights wearing a grey uniform with a red arm band pointing something at them. He jammed his foot on the accelerator to run the man down when he saw an instant flash.

  The man in the uniform walked around the wreck of the Pontiac and looked into the smoking interior. The two in the front seat were dead, but there were moans coming from the body in the back. He drew his pistol and pulled the trigger twice. The moans ceased. He walked back toward a truck at the entrance to the tunnel with a hose leading to a place off to the right. He had a report to make, and a mess to clean up.

  Rolf Dresner came in to work early as usual. He was surprised to see his Chief waiting for him in his office. He bid Dresner to come in and han
ded him a sheet of paper.

  “We just got this in about two hours ago. The housekeeper reported an accident on the road leading up to your friend’s house. I think you will want to look into this personally. If you can’t handle it, let me know,” he said sadly.

  Dresner scanned the report. A vehicle ran through the guardrail and over the ledge. It was an American Pontiac. Dresner could not believe his eyes. This couldn’t be right. He looked up at his Chief with worry. “Is it them?”

  The Chief nodded. “The housekeeper said no one is in the house except her and the butler. The car is gone. She said she saw some flames flickering at the bottom of the mountain. You better get up there.”

  Dresner pressed the button on his desk. In a moment, Betz was there. He looked at the Chief. “I have a job to do,” Dresner said stoically. “Come Sergeant, I’ll need you today.”

  The two men left the room and Dresner handed Betz the paper. Both understood the impact it held. The men climbed into their Opel and drove in silence to the entrance of the tunnel. The preliminary team was already there. One man was at the tunnel entrance and two more had hiked up the valley to the wreck site.

  Dresner got out and walked to the man beside the road. “What have you got so far?”

  The officer pointed to the broken guardrail. It appeared to have snapped in two and was sitting on the cliff edge, still attached to the rail posts. “It looks like they came out of the tunnel and didn’t make the turn onto the road. They broke the guardrail here and went over the cliff,” the officer said. “The others just made it to the wreck site and are going over the wreckage. They said two people are in the car.”

  Dresner got a knot in his stomach. That would be his friend and his wife sure enough. He walked to the ledge and looked over. The car lay in a crumpled mass at the bottom of the mountain with its rear sticking up slightly in the air. He could see the curved tail lamps in the sides and the word “Bonneville” across the back of the still glittering chrome.

  Then he looked closer at the cliff edge. There were scratches from the road bed across the rocks and over the side. Leaning over the edge, he could see where the car had slid down the rocks before coming to rest not twenty feet from the edge. Something didn’t add up. He looked at the rail again. He could see where the body of the car had come against it and appeared to slide across it for a way before the rail broke. He turned to see Betz examining two tire tracks, very close together, in the pavement toward the tunnel entrance. Betz came over to Dresner. “You seeing what I am?” he asked.

  “That car wasn’t going at any speed when it went over the edge. I think it was pushed,” Dresner said, an anger rising in him.

  “Then we agree, Herr Major. This was no accident,” Betz said.

  Dresner nodded. “Get down below and look at the car and the passengers. The witness said something about a fire. We need to know how. Also check the bodies carefully. Tell them this is now a homicide investigation,” he said firmly. “I am going to the house and question the servants.”

  “Someone needs to call the boy,” Betz said.

  Dresner nodded again. “Ja. I will call,” he said sadly.

  Helga was sitting in the kitchen in tears. Dresner sat down beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I am sorry to do this Frau Huffham, but you know I must,” he said sadly.

  She nodded and wiped her eyes with her apron. “Yes, I know, but it is so sad,” she said, barely able to contain her anguish.

  “I know,” said Dresner. “Now tell me what you saw last night.”

  Helga seemed to gird herself a little as she straightened up. “I had gone to church to the service like I do most Wednesday evenings. On the way back as I was coming up the road I saw something burning along the side of the mountain. As I got closer it seemed to be dying out so I didn’t think about it much. I thought it might be a camper or some people down there. Then when I got to the house I noticed the lights were on. Herr Anderson never leaves lights on. Then I saw the garage door open and his automobile gone. I went in to make sure things were as they should be. Hans was in bed, but he got up and we went to their rooms. Everyone else was gone. We both rode through the tunnel and saw the broken rail.” She began to cry again. “I always knew that road was dangerous. Now it has taken my family,” she nearly wailed.

  Dresner placed his hand on her shoulder again, pulled her to him and let her cry a minute. Then he continued. “Did you notice anything strange when you got home besides what you told me?”

  She shook her head. “It was like I left it. Only their beds were unmade and there were clothes along the floor. Frau Anderson always kept things clean and neat. They must have been in a hurry, but I don’t know why,” she said.

  Hans Kemper came in the kitchen, saw Dresner, and turned to leave.

  “One moment, Herr Kemper. I would like to speak to you as well,” Dresner said. Then he turned to Helga, briefly taking her hands in his. “You rest a while. I’ll talk to Hans and look around for myself,” he said gently.

  Helga nodded and looked away. Dresner got up and motioned for Kemper to follow him to the dining room. Kemper’s story was sparse.

  “I was asleep in my room until Helga came in and woke me last night. It was after midnight and I got up to look for the Andersons. They were not in their rooms. Helga said the car was gone and that she had seen a fire. We got in her car and followed the tunnel. That’s when we saw the broken guard rail. When I looked over the side I could still see a few small flickers of flame. I called the police station when we got back in. By that time it was about 2 am. Your people came about an hour later,” Kemper said.

  Dresner was busy taking notes. “So you didn’t hear anything suspicious?”

  Kemper shook his head. My room is in this wing on the second floor, back near the back of the house. I rarely hear anything from up here,” he said.

  “What time did everyone go to bed?” Dresner asked.

  “Early. Herr Anderson wasn’t feeling well and his family went to bed before 8:30. I went to bed by 9.”

  “Did they usually go to bed this early?”

  “No, Herr Dresner, they are usually up until around 10. But with Herr Anderson feeling unwell the others may have started feeling like he did and went early. Otherwise I don’t know. They didn’t ring for me to get up for anything,” he said.

  “What time did Helga leave?”

  “About 5:30. She always goes to early Mass and then to the dinner. The women usually sit up until late before she returns,” Kemper said.

  “Can you show me through their rooms?” Dresner asked.

  The two men went through the bedrooms and surrounding areas. Nothing was amiss and everything had been left as it had been found. The beds were ruffled and unmade. Clothing was lying around the room where the family had gotten undressed for bed. The robes were missing along with any bedclothes they might have worn. The bathrooms were clean and unused. Outside, Dresner saw the tire marks as the Pontiac had backed out and then rushed out of the courtyard and onto the road. That’s where it all ended. But the haste of the departure didn’t match with the evidence at the cliff. Something else had happened.

  After a few more questions he headed back to the wreck site. He drove to the bottom of the mountain and had to hike up the valley. Betz was there shaking his head.

  “It’s all wrong, Herr Major. Take a look at this,” Betz said pointing the way.

  The front of the Pontiac looked like it had been struck by a giant cleaver. It appeared split apart from the center. The remnants of its headlights and wheels were pointing toward either side. The hood was blown back over the windshield and was perforated in many places. But the most telling was what was not there. The engine was completely missing. It was almost as if it had exploded in one massive blast. Even the firewall was pushed inward toward the passenger compartment and perforated like the hood.

  Inside the passenger compartment the charred remains of the Anderson family remained in their seats except for Kat
e, who had been thrown from the wreck sometime before it had reached the ground. There was an empty bottle of American bourbon in the floor. Everything was blackened from the fire that had raged within. But that was another problem. That was the only place the fire had spread. For some reason, the gasoline tank was undamaged except for a few dents. It still contained gasoline. Someone had set the car alight and assumed it would all burn.

  The confirmation of the murders came when they found Kate’s body crumpled behind a rock some thirty feet up the cliff face. The poor girl had been thrown clear and had broken almost every bone when her body hit the rocks. But that had not covered the bullet holes in her head and chest. Photos were taken of everything.

  Betz carried her body down to a waiting stretcher. The morgue crew was already there and autopsies would be performed. But to Dresner and Betz there was no doubt what the outcome would be. After five hours on the scene, the two men climbed into their car and went back to Innsbruck.

  “You’re sure it was murder?” the Chief asked.

  “Positive. Someone took great pains to make it look like an accident, but there’s no doubt. The gunshot wounds on the girl laid that to rest,” Dresner said. “With it happening shortly after I talked to him about the acid theft, I am beginning to wonder if the two are related,” he said looking the Chief straight in the eyes.

  The Chief caught the insinuation. “Rolf, take whatever men you need and whatever assets you need. Find who did this and make the case. Solve this one, Rolf. I have a feeling a lot will depend on it.”