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613 Words
These were trying times for both Andreas and Chazo, as hope seemed an elusive specter on the horizon.
Days passed, and the island's meager food supplies dwindled while the awaited German fleet remained absent from the surrounding seas. Andreas returned to the intelligence building several times, sending out numerous coded messages without any assurance they were received. Even if they were, the fierce battles raging across the English Channel meant immediate rescue was unlikely.
Moreover, Andreas was keen to learn the outcome at Dunkirk, wondering if the British and French forces had managed to evacuate successfully. Like the Führer, he had unwavering confidence in the Wehrmacht’s armored divisions.
During these days, Andreas initiated his interrogation of Chazo. Preferring psychological manipulation over brute force, Andreas found Chazo to be a much more formidable opponent than Leon Cohen.
Chazo possessed a wit as sharp as Andreas's and an emotional intelligence that far exceeded his. He was adept at deflecting, seamlessly steering conversations away without arousing suspicion. When Andreas realized the diversion, a sense of frustration would wash over him, quelling his desire to continue the interrogation.
The questioning thus remained inconclusive.
Andreas found himself intrigued yet challenged by Chazo. Having such a resilient enemy made their isolated existence somewhat less monotonous.
"Colonel Hinze, don’t you tire of feeding me bread every day?" Chazo asked after swallowing a bite, bound to the sofa for days, his every need, from eating to sleeping, was tightly controlled.
Andreas paused briefly before replying, “Not really.”
"I’ve never met a Nazi like you. You’re far more formidable than the SS, at least your method doesn’t nauseate me."
Andreas frowned, questioning, "Does my feeding you bread disgust you?"
"Yes, it's utterly repulsive, makes me want to vomit."
"That’s unfortunate, Major, but you leave me no choice. If you’d just reveal why the Castellin sank, you could eat your bread however you please."
Exploring the island, Andreas discovers a small airfield on the other side, deducing that the bombers had originated from there.
"Colonel Hinze, with your intelligence, you should be able to piece together the sequence of events."
"Indeed. But one crucial detail eludes me: how could you be so certain the Castellin would alter its course?"
"It was a gamble."
"I doubt you’re the type to rely on mere chance."
"So, you’re convinced I orchestrated it all?"
"You had accomplices."
"You don’t hate me?"
"Hate solves nothing on the battlefield, Major. I seek the truth. If we’re talking about hate, I suspect yours for me runs deeper, given your country’s downfall."
Chazo’s smile stiffened: "I'm glad you understand."
"I’ve always known."
Their tense conversation ended as Andreas stood, struggling to contain his anger. However, later that night, he found himself gazing at the peacefully sleeping Chazo, his pale, pain-stricken face evoking an unexpected protective instinct.
He was the enemy, yet Andreas couldn’t help but sigh, releasing Chazo from his bonds and holding him in an embrace.
Chazo, deeply asleep, felt a rare comfort reminiscent of his childhood, enveloped in his mother's quilt, with his sister close by and the scent of lavender filling the room.
Waking up in a bed for the first time in days, Chazo found himself under Fiona’s favorite duvet, reminded of the quarrel over it before leaving Paris. Now, both Fiona and Leon were gone. Did they find peace?
Realizing his restraints were looser, Chazo concealed a razor blade in his palm, preparing for whatever came next. But Andreas, grabbing his shotgun, simply left with a hint of a challenge in his parting glance.
Chazo, left alone, pondered his next move, the concealed blade a small but potent symbol of his defiance and desperation.
- Writer
