[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]onto the Wilhelmstrasse itself.
A column of storm troopers was marching down the middle of the road to a
thunderous beating of drums, with trumpets blaring, banners flying, and a
river of torches flowing away as far as the eye could see. Shouting people
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lined the sidewalks on both sides, and every window was packed with waving,
cheering figures. As the mission planners had anticipated, it would have
provided the perfect cover for getting into the Chancellery building . . . if
it weren't for his dress, he realized as he looked around. He was the only
person in sight wearing a cloak. And not only that all the men were wearing
subdued combinations of heavy overcoats, flat caps or conventional felt hats
not one with a feather and without exception, long pants. Kunz's cloak was
only knee length, and his bright red socks seemed like beacons.
Then he saw the two German policemen in flat-topped helmets and greatcoats
heading toward him along the rear of the crowd. Suddenly he started to panic.
He turned, but a knot of onlookers had blocked the alley that he had emerged
from. Desperately he turned the other way, but a crowd coming out of one of
the doorways had cut off any escape in that direction. And before he could
recover from his confusion, the policemen had drawn up in front of him.
The larger of the two looked Kunz up and down. He had heavy cheeks and a thick
black mustache, and a fleshy sausage-neck overflowing from his collar. "Don't
tell me," he said amiably in German, "You've come back from a future age to
assassinate the Führer."
Kunz gulped disbelievingly. "How . . . how do you know?" he stammered.
"Oh, they've been showing up in dozens all night. You'd better come with us.
The line starts a block farther along the street."
They took him a short distance along the Wilhelmstrasse, and then down a
narrow street that opened out into a cobbled court overlooked by high
buildings and lit by gas lamps. On the far side was a stone building with wide
double doors set behind a columned entrance arch at the top of a set of wide,
shallow steps. And stretching out of the entrance in a ragged line three or
four deep like theatergoers waiting for the doors to open, mumbling among
themselves and jostling as a cordon of more German policeman strove to form
them into some semblance of order was the strangest collection of characters
that Kunz had ever seen.
There were several wearing military camouflage smocks, and a number of others
in hooded, bodytight Ninja suits. One, in silver coveralls and something that
looked like a football player's helmet, was arguing with two others, one of
whom was wearing a pink cloak with emerald-green knee breeches, and the other
a German fireman's uniform, but with a field marshal's helmet. Nearer the
door, a bronzed, muscular Adonis in what looked like ballet tights and a
fencing blouse was shivering beneath a greatcoat that one of the policemen had
evidently lent him, while a few places back, another man with leather shorts
and a Tyrolean hat similar to Kunz's was waving his hands and jabbering at a
woman with a long tweed skirt, motoring bonnet, and fleece-lined flying
jacket. One had an aviator's cap with goggles, another a Napoleon hat and
tunic, and another an American Stetson with pantaloons. Here was a Louis XIV
wig, there a diamond tiara worn with a raincoat, and farther along, a Cal.
State T-shirt stretched over the bodice of a crinoline dress.
Kunz could do nothing but stare numbly. He was barely aware as the two
policemen relieved him of his arsenal, frisked him for concealed items, and
added the collection to a pile of rifles, submachine guns, revolvers,
automatics, pistols, bombs, grenades, blasters, flamethrowers, hand lasers,
beam projectors, bayonets, daggers, knives, axes, cudgels, clubs and weapons
of every description accumulating on the far side of the court, guarded by
more policemen. Then the two who had brought Kunz in escorted him to the end
of the line, behind the Louis XIV wig and a huge bearded man in a sailor suit
with paratrooper's jump boots. "Wait here," the amiable sausage-necked
policeman said. "It shouldn't be long."
"What's happening?" Kunz asked, finding his voice at last.
"Why, the Führer is coming here to talk to you. He's heard all the terrible
things you people are saying about him, and he's very upset."
Just then, two more policemen appeared from the direction of the street,
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steering between them the figure in the Charlemagne coat and the Abe Lincoln
hat that Kunz had glimpsed briefly in the Tiergarten. The figure stopped dead,
looking as stunned as Kunz had been, while the policemen took charge of the
plasma-bolt beamer, two sidearms, machete, and four subcritical fission
grenades that he had been carrying, and then they led him over to join the
line alongside Kunz.
"They're still coming in like homing pigeons back there," one of them said to
the two policemen with Kunz. "We need all the help we can get."
"It won't be long now," the sausage-neck said to Kunz again. He indicated Kunz
to the Abe-Lincoln-hat man with a nod of his head. "Just stay close to
Pinnochio here until they move you inside." With that, he turned away to head
back toward the Wilhelmstrasse after his three colleagues.
Kunz and Abe-Lincoln-hat eyed each other suspiciously. At last Kunz ventured,
"I, er . . . guess it wasn't such a unique idea." Abe-Lincoln-hat stared at
him. "Where did you come here from?" Kunz asked him.
"The year of the Lord, 2124."
"The Pacifist cause must really have been catching on by then, eh?"
"Pacifists?"
"Isn't that why you're here to get rid of Hitler, the man who got pacifism a
bad name?"
Abe-Lincoln-hat's eyes glared. "Pacifism is Satan's design to disarm the hosts
of the righteous, and Hitler is his agent! For by renouncing all war, the
world shall deny the just war that is God's instrument."
Kunz's expression hardened. "There can be no just war," he said.
"It is written, "The wicked flee when no man pursueth: but the righteous are
bold as a lion.'"
"What's a Bible freak doing here?" Louis-XIV-wig demanded, turning in front to
face them. "Religious fascism is no different from Nazi fascism. Hitler
invented the techniques of mass propaganda that gave the Fundamentalists the
presidency in 2080."
"Arghh! You . . . secular humanist!" Abe-Lincoln-hat grabbed him by the throat
with both hands.
Sailor-suit-and-paratrooper-boots was also glowering back. "Who did I hear was
a pacifist? They were the bums who lost us white supremacy and let the
Asiatics take the twenty-first century."
"I am," Kunz said, thrusting out his chin defiantly. "So why are you here?
Hitler was on your side, wasn't he?"
"He blew it. If it wasn't for his war, the colonial empires wouldn't have
broken up, see. And I say all pacifists are wimps."
"Oh yeah?" Kunz punched him in the mouth.
"All right, all right enough of that." Three policemen moved in to break up
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]zanotowane.pldoc.pisz.plpdf.pisz.plkajaszek.htw.pl
