17:23

Louis glanced up at the clock on the bell tower.  There were thirty seven minutes to go.  This was not how a don was supposed to behave.  Getting his hands dirty was only supposed to apply to the dahlias and orchids that he had been asked to look after for a friend.  The car he was in had been borrowed, without the owner’s permission to be fair, by Kalinic who sat in the back seat.  The idea to empty part of the gun factory was not his, the plans were not his but the people were.  He had a vested interest to complete it when one of his close advisors Stella_Viacelli wound up dead.  This was going to be for her.

18:07

The security guard shift change had gone off without a hitch.  Elvis and Victor Parry had infiltrated the guards successfully and were doing a tour of the facility to ensure the coast was clear while Louis and Kalinic stayed in the car waiting for the doors to open.  It shouldn’t be too much longer.

18:26

Where were Elvis and Victor?  The door should be open by now, the plan was for it to be open by twenty past but there was no movement.  These guys had scoped this out for weeks.  It should be clockwork. Louis glanced up at the clock again.

“I’m going in Kalinic.  Stay here and move the car if it opens.”

“Ok boss, be safe,” Kalinic shuffled forward while Louis got out of the car and crossed the road.

18:34

The sound of gunshots and a crash from a side window was enough to alert Kalinic that something was not right.  He ran round to find Elvis and Victor throwing some guns out on to the street.  Kalinic ran back to the car and backed it up round the corner to help them out.  They both dropped on to the roof to break their fall while Kalinic threw what he could into the car.  

“Don Mezzo?”

“He was right behind us holding some guys back.  He said to go if he’s not here.  He can get his own way back.  We’ve got enough to refill the armoury”

Kalinic sped away just as Louis got to the window.

“Shit”

He was supporting his arm, the signs of blood had seeped through to his suit jacket and it glistened under the dim streetlights.  In the distance he could hear the sound of sirens, he maybe had four or five minutes to get away.

He looked down and cursing his bad luck he sat on the window ledge and dropped down.  The ten feet fall wasn’t enough to cause any major damage but stung his ankles, knees and arm like he’d been hit by truck.  He hobbled in the opposite direction to the car.  This was a neighbourhood he had known reasonably well.  The issue around the Pier had been finished off in the back alleys around here so it wasn’t the worst place in the world to be stuck…he shouldn’t really have enemies around here.  

He went down on his haunches in one of the alleyways and took a look at the wounds on his arm.  There was a couple of grazes on his forearm and a deeper wound in his bicep.  He picked his way through the alleyways making sure he never really emerged from the shadows.  The feeling of being on the run was quite a thrill despite the peril he was still in.  Fifteen minutes later he emerged onto one of the main roads passing through South Philly.  The gun factory was a mile or so behind him and he was relatively free and clear, he hoped the rest of the guys had made it out ok.

He stopped to look at the damage on his left arm again, it was really starting to sting and he had little strength to be of any use.  He would need to get it seen to reasonably soon but first of all he would need to find someone who could get him to the hospital. 

He looked around to get his bearings, trying to figure out where might be a good direction to head.

Heinrich sat at the desk of his study going over the content for the series of guest lectures that were scheduled for Detroit in the coming month. It was a good career opportunity for him, especially as it represented a chance for him to bolster the university's ranks with faculty that had been sought after for too long. If things went according to plan he would have enough evidence to convince several talented professors to transition to the east coast, which would subsequently help his bid for the now vacant position of Associate Dean.

As he perused the relevant documents, he heard the sound of his door being forced open. As a tenured professor, he had few enemies if any, none bold enough to break into his house. Curious but nonetheless alerted, he let his training take over. Quietly getting up off his desk, he moved to his bedroom. From under his bed, he pulled out his Guwehr rifle, one of the few possessions he still had left from his time in the army. Opening up his bedside drawer, he retrieved some ammunition and pushed the bullets into his gun.

Barefoot, he moved out of the bedroom to avoid noise, clearing corners carefully with his gun as he travelled towards the front door. The sound of strained breathing entered his ears as the smell of gunpowder entered his nostrils. His mind began to play tricks on him, transporting back to the trenches of Verdun and the tunnels of Somme. 

With adrenaline coursing through his veins he shook his head to push the memories away and turned the corner towards the living room. A man in a bloodstained suit jacket sat by his fireplace with a revolver trained at the window that overlooked his front porch. "I just bought that carpet you know." Heinrich said as he pressed his rifle against the back of the man's skull. "So how about you drop that pistol and tell me why you're bleeding out on it fremeder."

The gun pressed against the back of his skull was cold.  That was the first thing that came into Louis’ head when the stranger threatened him.  He had, to be fair, entered without permission and the man was also perhaps correct to be miffed about the blood but what was a guy to do.  He needed somewhere to gather his thoughts and make sure he was in no additional danger.

Louis slowly raised his hands, instinctively.

“Please sir, if I may put the revolver down.  I mean you no harm and I am willing to pay for any damage caused.”

The stranger grumbled that the longer he held on to the revolver the shorter his fuse was getting.  Louis leaned over and placed the revolver gently on the mantelpiece taking care not to score the immaculately varnished wood.  He kept his arms raised despite the pain and could now feel some blood run down the inside of his shirt.  Looking out of the corner of his eyes the room was full of the sorts of antiques and other articles that he would have definitely been interested in when he was in his teens.  Something told him that this was not owned by someone in his way of life, it was here for the long term, collected over years and for appreciation in years to come.  Not cobbled together with a function in case he wasn’t here from one day to the next.

“My name is Louis Mezzo.  The name possibly means nothing to you.  I am looking for some assistance in getting to the hospital and saw there may be phone lines connected to this building.”

Heinrich nudged the man over away from the mantlepiece. Keeping the gun aimed squarely at the man's torso, he emptied the revolver and pocketed the bullets to ensure the man couldn't surprise him. He walked over to the kitchen and reached for the telephone. Upon picking up the receiver, he heard no dial tone and his expression soured.

"Scheiße" He cursed and switched off the lights. Dampening an apron with some water he tossed it at Louis and gestured towards the fireplace. "Douse the flames and get behind the couch." He said sombrely as he walked over to a nearby window. Parting the blinds slightly he spotted two cars standing outside his house as several men stood in discussion while watching someone descend from the telephone pole.

Heinrich picked up a chair and jammed the handle of his front door. Crouching, he hurried past his carpet and slid behind the couch. His rifle still aimed for Louis's gut as he let his training take over slowly.

They were in a fortified position, under cover of darkness against a superior force that had encircled them and jammed their communications. In all likelihood, once the enemy eliminated other possibilities they would soon surround the house and attempt to burst in. The only thing the former Stoßtruppen and the injured intruder had working for them was their current fortifications and the bonus of home terrain.

His ears rang with the echoes of artillery and the screams of dying men as his vision began to blur. This was Ypress all over again. Rocking back and forth he slapped himself a few times and shook his head in a desperate attempt to not slip away into the past. The man sitting beside him, he who had brought him so much trouble, was staring at him. He looked like he was in pain as he clutched his bleeding arm.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put a bullet in your head and rid myself of the rouble outside fremeder."  Heinrich whispered as his finger caressed the cold unforgiving metal of the trigger.

Louis doused the flames as requested and got behind the couch watching the stranger hitting himself on the head.  This was not the scenario he had envisioned when he first came through the door.  Shelter, a spot to rest and a means to get help was all he’d wanted not another near death escalation.

“You shouldn’t just shoot me now.  It may not look like it right this second but I’m more use to you alive than dead at this moment in time.”

Louis sat on the floor.  He was starting to get used to the pain, it was like a really bad toothache just worse and if he didn’t think about it he could block it out slightly.  He looked about the parts of the room he could see.

“What are you?  Some sort of antique collector?  Look, contrary to what you see before you, I’m not just some low-life petty criminal.”

Louis considered his audience; the guy sounded foreign, was obviously well off and knew what he was doing with the gun he had in his hand…or at least was very comfortable with the gun.  It wasn’t outwith the realms of possibility this guy was law enforcement, possibly ex law enforcement.  Maybe not a lawyer, the lawyers he’d experienced were less au fait with firearms than this guy.  Law enforcement in this town would probably have shot first rather than asking.  Some form of the truth might help.

“I have some fingers in some businesses in town.  Not necessarily all of them legitimate.  If you help me, I can make sure you are rewarded.  Anyways, I think if you’d wanted me dead I’d be dead by now, I don’t think you want the hassle. Am I right?”

"A wop asking for my help? Ha! Fate has a cruel sense of humour."  A dry chuckle escaped his throat as memories of the Italians' betrayal of their German rivals in the war came rushing back to his mind. Though the wounds were almost two decades old, the scars still throbbed. 

An argument broke out on the street between the assailants, snapping him out of his reverie.  "Take off your shirt." He instructed as he walked over to the window to take another look outside. Grabbing a spatula and the revolver from the kitchen he returned to find Louis still closed. "Your pursuers, if they are mildly competent, will realize they need to launch a simultaneous attack from the front and the side doors. I can't cover both entrances and you are likely to pass out from blood loss soon.  So, take off your shirt fremeder. I may not have enough time to stitch or cauterize your wounds but I can tie a tourniquet with this spatula and offer you a fighting chance."

Twisting the shirt above Louis's shoulder with the wooden spatula tightly he stopped the blood flow in his arm. Placing the revolver in his other palm, Heinrich gave him the bullets and whispered. "With any luck, they won't attempt to use Chlorine. Still, if you smell pineapple and pepper or taste a metallic sting in the back of your throat, aim that at your temple and pull the trigger. Trust me, you don't want to be here for what comes after."

Nodding to the man, he moved once again to recheck the doors. Satisfied, he returned and sat down with his back against Louis's while clenching his Guwehr rifle.

"You must be wondering about my proficiency with a gun or about the events that led you to this moment but the past is no longer your concern fremeder." He whispered as his eyes glossed over with the murky haze of smoke and ash as dawn broke in Ypress. "You may wonder why I don't care about the promises you made for my help or you may be wondering just how you will enact your vengeance against those that wronged you, but the future is not your concern either." A phantom smell of burnt flesh and smouldering metal assaulted his nose as his mouth went dry.

"The soldier's minute. In a battle, that's all you get fremeder. One minute of everything together all at once. Everything before is nothing and everything after, nothing. Nothing in comparison to that one minute." The soft words left his mouth as memories of his superiors blowing their whistles to command the men to run out from their trenches resurfaced.

A momentary silence descended dragging out the inevitable for as long as possible before the first two men kicked in the doors.

“Thank you sir.”

The spatula tied to his shoulder was pretty uncomfortable for Louis but he appreciated the help that the man had given.  There was something about him though that didn’t seem quite right as if he was distracted by something that was real but unreal at the same time.  If Louis didn’t know better, haunted would be the word to describe him.  It was something he’d seen before when confronted by people who had been tasked with solving…manpower issues…for the first time.  Sometimes they were unaffected and other times it was like they had seen too much.  

Apparently it had been quite an issue twelve or thirteen years before, men walking along the road and cowering in doorways as a car backfired.  The asylums were full of men like that and Louis had heard the Great War had something to do with it.  Is that where the chlorine idea came from as well?  It hadn’t quite been history when he had been bothered to go to school but he had vague recollections on the days he did pitch up.

“We should be fine on the chlorine front.  What happened to you friend?  What did they make you do?”

Louis slotted the bullets in to the revolver and turned to face the door.

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Heinrich stood over the bleeding skull of a corpse as he gazed at the dead bodies piled inside what remained of his once immaculate living room. Bits and pieces of the battle intermingled with memories of past encounters in his mind mudding his consciousness.

Taking a few cautious steps, he poked his head out of the door to make sure there was no one else before sighing in relief and walking back towards the kitchen. He picked up a bottle of Riesling from a drawer that barely hung from its hinges and walked back towards the fireplace. Kicking a dead mobster off the blood-stained, bullet-riddled couch, he sat down exhausted.

Popping the top off the bottle, he took a large swig and passed it to Louis as he gulped the dense liquid. "They didn't make me do anything I did not want to. It was my patriotic duty! That's what I said when it all began and my father asked me not to go." Chuckling dryly he added. "It's our patriotic duty. When we marched to the frontlines braving bad weather- It's our patriotic duty. When we assaulted city after city or climbed up to take mountain forts with little care for the risk- It's our patriotic duty. When our artillery roared and our planes strafed- It's our patriotic duty. When we ran out of the trenches into a haze of tear gas and suppressing machine gun fire- It's our patriotic duty."

His expression changed suddenly, turning sombre under the ghastly reflection of the pale moonlight seeping in through the smashed window. "When the wind changed, and the Chlorine turned back on us. When men beside me clutched their faces as their eyes boiled or clenched their throats as their lungs drowned in acid..." His voice turned into a weak whisper as the words reluctantly escaped his lips. "It's our patriotic duty."

Taking another gulp of the Riesling, he wiped the tears from his eyes and coughed his emotions away. Turning to Louis he said. "You should be safe now Herr Mezzo. One of the cars belonging to these men should be able to get you to a doctor. If your injuries limit you, I'll drive you myself. Regardless, I hope I can impose upon your generosity and request that you send someone to clean up this mess and deal with the police once you've had your wounds looked at."

Louis sat motionless in shock, when he had helped out at the docks in Seattle he had picked up some of the phrases that the sailors had used.  The German sailors when they played games would jokingly refer to a blitzkrieg when they defeated him at chess in as few moves as they could…but this…this had been the literal definition of what they were on about.  Short, sharp and ruthlessly efficient.  Yet, while the encounter passed quickly, from looking at the man this was just the continuation of a lifetime’s experience.

Louis took the wine from him and took a little drink, he somehow felt as if his need was not as great as the man standing over him so handed the bottle back.  Louis pulled himself to his feet and walked over to the window.  The cars sat silently on the street as a number of bystanders started to congregate outside wondering what had brought gunfire to their neighbourhood this time.  He drew a wry smile, back on familiar territory.  He walked back into the hallway, looked at the bodies and glanced at the small nameplate on the door, GRIMM.  The faces on the floor were unknown but it didn’t matter

“Mister Grimm? Thank you so much for your…hospitality.  Here’s how to proceed, I will wait here with you.  If I leave now, questions will be asked as to why I was leaving.  I am happy to say I was here discussing…antiques, wine…whatever you feel you can talk to confidently to the policeman.  I’m here because I have a shipment of whatever and your name was passed to me as a source of advice.  I was injured in the shootout and you have fixed me up as best you can.  The men have followed me here, cut your telephone and burst in.  You have defended yourself and your property as you have the right to do.  I will speak to Georgie Mitchell and have my guy Matthew Woock assigned to the case.  The police can get me to the hospital, I’ve surely donated enough to the retired policeman’s charity to get that treatment.”

Louis walked to the phone, took it off the hook and walked back in to the sitting room.  He caught Herr Grimm looking aver quizzically.

“So much going on, you don’t have time to put it back on the hook, looks less calculated.  I’ll have guys come over tonight; repair what’s needed and replace what they can.  The police will deal with the bodies.  Now while we wait, do you have anything stronger?”

Louis sat on the arm of the couch taking care not to bleed more than was absolutely essential.

“You look like you’re suffering a bit and I can’t help with that but in this situation I liked what I saw.  I’m always in need of someone who can use a gun like that.  I don’t often make these offers out of the blue but if you find yourself down on your luck or…I don’t know…after a career change then come down to the 30th Street station and we can have a chat.”

Looking forward to the next chapter.. :)  Love it <3