The Mask of Minos, Bruno's Inferno

Chapter 2 - The Dry Fields

            "Well," he began slowly, "It seems that you have something that belongs to," he stopped and nodded his head at the man rather than say his name, "and he wants it back."

Dagon was nervous. Sure, he had stolen lots of things, but this was war. To the victor go the spoils.

"You've misplaced something of his," Skinny said. He was calculating, "A box."

"Misplaced?" He looked confused, and shrugged his shoulders, not a clue.

"Everything I've been doing has been simple shit; gold, cash." He felt he was getting closer, hoping to strike a response. "Artwork, anything to make a buck. If I can't sell it now I bury it and wait till afterwards when shit settles down. Someone's got to win this thing and they'll be the highest bidder."

"Last year," Skinny inserted, "you broke into an apartment in Sevres."

"Yeah, what of it? That was an official job," said Dagon, "We just accessed its contents." Dagon worked for the OSS and his job was to search for Nazi infiltrators. They came across an apartment owned by a German Attorney who, rumor had it, was dealing in secrets, selling to the highest bidder.

"What were you looking for?"

What the fuck do you think? Sweat formed around his upper lip. This house was something important to them, obviously, but he would equivocate and waste time.

"What's going on here Skinny? Huh? I have a couple of guys, and we look for things that are, lost, and unwanted. You know?"

"How'd you find out about this particular house?" Dagon was looking back and forth between the Russian and Alex. "This attorney from Berlin owned it. He was in it hot with the Gestapo, and they were looking for him, but he slipped out and left in a hurry." They don't just execute that sort of traitor. First, they have a little fun. "I heard this guy escaped before they could take too many fingers. I hear he left the better of one hand behind."

"I'd rather not say who they are if it's all the same to you. Come on Al. Clue me in here. Give me something to go on."

"The house belongs to my boss. He wants everything returned."

Dagon's eyes widened and he stopped chewing and washed it down with a drink. That isn't what he expected to hear. The guy who owned the house was a Kraut, not a Ruskie, and then he saw the shit hit the fan and he was on the other side of it. He suddenly leaned back and laughed, "Not anymore he doesn't. It's been washed." He breathed a bit easier.

"How's that?"

"We didn't expect to find anything of value. Word had it this guy was a Jew and a member of the Reich, and anything of value had already been extracted." He leaned back in his chair and looked smugly at his hosts. "Now I find it's you? A fucking Russian. Man, you had everyone snowed."

The Russian stared at him with a dour pale face.

"A few days later, somebody came in with a washing crew."

"A what?" Skinny reflected the Russian's perplexed expression

"Washing crew." He couldn't believe this was news. "Are you kidding? They strip it of anything of value. I went back a day later to pick up the piano with a moving crew and the place was stripped clean; like no one ever lived there. It wasn't us I can tell you that. The Gestapo got in there. The Oss had no warning. Sorry, but this is war. The shit hit the fan."