Nobody likes being frog-marched in public under the best of circumstances, especially a famous screen actress.
"Who are you?" demanded Monika, "Why have I been placed under arrest?"
"Stop struggling, you little bitch," von Schitt warned her, "and things will go a lot easier for you. It is futile to resist."
"Oh, I forgot, this is Nazi Germany where no one has any rights anymore." She stomped on the colonel's left foot. Agony lanced through Monika when she felt her forearm jerked higher behind her back.
All the tribulations the baroness had undergone tonight drained what little patience she possessed. If nothing else went wrong she could claim mission accomplished but the Fuchsmach girl squirmed worse than a snake chopped in half. In spite of her preternatural strength the actress stymied her efforts to bring her under control. Von Schitt did not want to kill her, not yet, she needed her mobile and unharmed for the purpose of any propaganda victory. But the young hellcat was determined to draw attention herself before they got off the Oktoberfest grounds. She had some innate cognizance if escorted beyond all the onlookers she might never see the light of day again.
The twin spires of St. Paul's towered on the horizon but von Schitt knew they had another three hundred meters of ground to cover before leaving the Wies'n behind.
"What are you gawking at, citizens?" she barked at a knot of male university students.
Judging from their muscular frames and identical jerseys they must be members of a rugby squad. Von Schitt counted seven of the strapping young lads, all with liters of beer in various stages of completion in their fists, probably too inebriated to have any sense left in their thick skulls. Rugby players have had bad reputations as heavy drinkers and brawlers since the inception of the sport.
One bold fellow slurred in bad German: "I'm not a citizen, me and me ruggers are on holiday from Burton-upon-Trent. We hate Nazis in Burton-upon-Trent, Fraulein."
"I am not a Fraulein, pig dog, I am a Gestapo colonel."
"I don't care if you're Adolf the postcard painter himself. You'll be unhanding the fair lady, don't you know."
Jeers and derisive laughter erupted from his teammates.
The pretty prisoner glimpsed salvation. "Help me, please. I am Monika Fuchsmach, the film actress. She's holding me against my will."
Great, thought von Schitt, gazing at the church so close yet so far. The knot of players spread out as if lining up on the playing field. Two of the boys tossed back the contents of their steins, dropped them to the ground and rushed von Schitt from each side.
Still holding onto Monika's arm she kicked the one on the right in the chest. He sailed backward through the air and landed on his face, cursing.
That didn't stop the other player. He dived at her knees for a low rough tackle. The baroness was off balance from kicking the first one. Much to her surprise the player succeeded in toppling her. She lost her grip on Monika when she fell and the actress scuffled away.
The rest of the squad howled uproariously until von Schitt lifted the fellow above her while flat on her back. She regained her feet still holding him over her head before slinging him an impressive distance. Monika started to run only to be caught up short in the husky arms of a rugger who played the position of scrum-half.
His breath stank of malt beer when he bawled, "How about a kiss for one of your rescuers?"
Monika wondered if she'd exchanged the frying pan for the fire, but she sweetly said, "I never kiss a handsome man like you until I know his name." She was an actress after all.
Von Schitt ignored the charade and stalked toward Monika and her young roughneck. He told the lovely girl he was named Ian and puckered his lips, unaware of the irate colonel's approach. Cries of warning from his mates came too late; von Schitt clapped her hands against both his ears with brutal force. He unhanded Monika and fell face first at her feet, his skull crushed.
Monika stepped back to flee as the remainder of the squad piled on top of the baroness, burying her ignominiously. The Fraulein darted away, hoping to lose herself among those gathering around when another strong hand grabbed her, this time by the hair. A jackboot kicked her feet out from under her; she sprawled on the turf, stared up into the face of a goon girl.
Erika had finally caught up with them. She tossed Monika over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, Monika's legs pumping furiously, disarrayed skirt hiked up around her waist displaying brief pink panties for all to see. Erika reached the pile-up and punted a big fullback in the head to assist von Schitt in extricating herself. A few more splendid kicks then Erika and von Schitt were free and clear. Off they ran with the squirming but powerless Monika.
********** Dagmar had waited under the Lion's Head at the Lowenbrau tent long enough. Not a single goon girl or her leader had shown at the appointed time. She was debating on whether to stay put or take up the search anew when she saw the black trenchcoat of the Inspekteur and, walking beside him, the man he had arrested earlier for shooting Astrid. The decision made itself for her and she bolted after them at top speed. They were blissfully unaware of the impending vampire attack.
Odell Yell chose that moment to glance behind him, witnessed the brown shirt racing in for the kill. He knew shouting a warning would be useless amid all the noise. The only thing he could do was try to beat her to the punch. Dagmar did not see Odell Yell, the same way Hex and Hoffner did not see her.
Yell dug a toe into the grass for traction to launch himself into a sprint. People saw the big man hurtling toward them and dodged out of his way. He had twenty meters to go while Dagmar had half the distance, but she was not a world-class track runner.
"What the bloody hell is Odell doing?" Hoffner asked Hex.
"He's waving his arm about something," Hex said.
Both Hoffner and he looked to the side but Dagmar came at them from an angle behind and they still could not see her. Her long blonde hair flew over her shoulders parallel to the ground as she ran. When close enough to clear the remaining distance in a leap, Dagmar dove at Astrid's murderer, fangs bared. Yell jumped the same moment she did and collided with her in mid-air. He caught the vampire unprepared. His greater weight and bulk combined with the forward inertia of his dive stunned her. She struck the thoroughfare, sliding. Yell worked feverishly trying to straddle her chest so he could hold her down.
People scattered. Hex and Hoffner turned and saw the pair fighting on the pavement. Dagmar clawed like a cat and punched like a boxer. She flattened Yell with a roundhouse that left stars swimming before his eyes. The brown shirt rolled away and hopped to her feet in an instant. Yell lay on his side, unable to get up. Dagmar delivered a kick to his crotch, then administered a nasty backhand that stretched Yell prone. Her original subject Hoffner forgotten, she squatted on Yell's waist pinning his arms with her knees. She choked him hard enough to bulge his eyeballs from their sockets. Hoffner forgot his pending vengeance with Trommler. He rushed over to pull Dagmar off the top of Yell but Hex grabbed the back of Hoffner's belt. Since Hoffner was a bigger man Hex could not stop him, only slow him down.
"What d'yer think you're doin', mate?" he growled at Hex.
"Don't let your SS friends get away, let me handle this brawl."
