The Bavarian Gate By John Dalmas

“Thank you, Herr Hauptsturmfuhrer!” Again Lipanov’s heels clopped, and his arm shot out again. “Heil Hitler!” Then he about-faced and left.

After giving Lance Corporal Karlsbach brief instructions, Kupfer sent him off to show Montag what he needed to know about the building. This would use time, allowing Kupfer to finish his paperwork before Colonel Landgraf returned from Munich.

First the corporal took Montag back to the foyer, to the door leading to the cellar. “Do not go down there,” he said pointing. “If you do, you will be shot.”

He didn’t elaborate, and his aura gave Macurdy no clear indication that he was or was not exaggerating. Macurdy was also to avoid the north and south wings totally, except if escorted, for the same compelling reason.

“Either that,” Karlsbach added, “or the colonel will give you to the foreigners for punishment.” His aura indicated now that he was lying-no doubt playing with the newcomer.

“Foreigners? What will they do to me?” The answer was a shrug and smirk.

Then Montag was taken to the second floor main, to the men’s quarters-the room where the male psychics were quartered. It held eight steel-framed army cots with mattresses, pillows, and blankets. Several had linens, and were made up for use. Connected to the sleeping room was a latrine, with commodes, urinals, washbasins, and an attached shower room with eight showerheads. He was also shown a door, diagonally across the corridor, which the corporal identified as quartering the,female psychics. “I think they are very lonely in there,” he said. “Perhaps they will invite you to visit them some night.” Again he smirked. From there, Montag was shown the psychics, messroom, also on second-floor main, to which their food was delivered from the enlisted men’s kitchen. An unoccupied classroom, on third-floor main, was equipped with tables, chairs, a blackboard, and large cabinet, but nothing else. There wasn’t a clue as to what might be taught there.

The tour finished, Montag was returned to Captain Kupfer’s office. The most interesting things he’d learned were the offlimits rules. Enforced rules: The foyer guard would see anyone attempting to visit the cellar, while a sentry stood at each corridor ell to each wing.

Kupfer was a Schwabe, a Swabian, gangling, nervous, fortysix years old, with large eyes suggesting hyperthyroidism–certainly not in the SS image. At first his Schwdbisch speech was difficult for Montag to follow, nor was Montag’s Baltic German much easier for Kupfer. Nonetheless, Kupfer gave him the standard interview for psychic newcomers to the project, typing Montag’s responses with quick index fingers. The interview required that if possible, the newcomer demonstrate his talents. Montag lit the captain’s cigarette of course, but his invisibility spell, and ability to cast plasma charges, he kept carefully to himself. The written tests took longer. Kupfer hadn’t been sure Montag could read well enough, but he managed, though laboriously. Or so it seemed. His most conspicuous difficulty was inserting the carbon paper right side up.

He is more ignorant than innately stupid, Kupfer decided; perhaps the Voitar will find him teachable. What Kupfer didn’t consciously articulate in his mind was an underlying hope that this unlikely seeming young man, who had surely been more at home manhandling cargo on the Lubeck docks, might actually prove to be what they’d been striving for, thus validating Reichsfuhrer Himmler’s hopes for the proct.

At the same time validating his own hopes for psychic phenomena, for Kupfer, though lacking psychic talent, was a true believer. Just having his cigarette lit had given him a considerable boost.

By the time Montag had plodded through the written tests, classes had let out for the psychics in the third-floor classrooms. Kupfer pressed a button on his desk, and a minute later a private arrived from the duty room. He took Montag to the men’s quarters, delivering him, along with a carbon copy of the interview form, to the civilian in c arge-the psychic who was senior to the others.

Briefly the guardsman waited until the senior psychic had scanned the form and handed it back. Then, fixing Kurt Montag with a hard gaze, he said, “You will do as the Herr Doktor Professor orders, or it will go badly for you here.” With that admonition, he turned and left.

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