Sniper's Justice (Caje Cole Book 9) by David Healey (best classic books txt) 📗

Hauer shrugged. “In your Gulf War, it is what you Americans called collateral damage.”

If he’d had a gun in his hand, Cole would have taken The Butcher out then and there. “Collateral damage? That’s when bombs go off target. You shot those villagers and those kids, you son of a bitch. I had to go back and make up some lie for that dead boy’s sister.”

“I am sure you did her a great kindness. Sometimes, a lie is better than the truth. As for what I did during the war, I am sure that I did what was required of me.”

“There’s being a soldier, and then there’s being a murderer. Let’s not forget Wingen sur Moder, where you shot that nun.”

Hauer’s polite mask seemed to slip, and his face darkened. “Do not forget that you yourself killed many Germans.” The Butcher nodded at the exhibit displaying the old photograph of Cole in his sniper pose. “Because your side won, I can see how your actions are celebrated here. Did every soldier you killed deserve death? You and I are not so different in the end. We both have blood on our hands.”

Cole had heard enough. He gave the German sniper one last glare, then turned and walked away. After a moment, Hans followed.

“What was that all about?” Hans asked. “Were those things you said about him true?”

“True, and then some. I need a drink, old buddy.”

Cole approached the bar and ordered a bourbon. He was in luck that they had some on hand for their largely older, American crowd. He had been sticking with club soda, but running into Hauer again after so many years called for something stronger. He knocked it back in one gulp, welcoming the warm burn the liquor made going down.

Like Cole, Hans had been sipping a soft drink. He now ordered a schnapps. “Do you want another?” he asked Cole.

“No thanks. It might make me do something ornery.”

“I am sorry that he upset you,” Hans said.

“I guess it’s to be expected. You can’t open a museum like this without rubbing some salt in somebody’s old wounds. I just wasn’t expecting it to be my old wounds.”

But Hauer wasn’t ready to leave Cole alone just yet. He approached from the other side of the room, a contrite smile on his face, hands raised in a placating gesture.

“I must apologize,” he said. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Cole said nothing. He was glad that he had stopped at one drink, or there was no telling what might happen.

“You know, when the war ended, I found myself in East Germany,” Hauer said. “Behind what you call the Iron Curtain. It is only recently that we have been able to experience any real freedom and I am enjoying every minute of it, believe me. Being trapped in a Communist country for so many years was its own form of punishment.”

“The wall is down now,” Hans said. “Germany has been reunited.”

The Butcher brightened. “Yes, indeed. The wall is down and there is a new future, although it may be too late for me.” He looked around and nodded in Danny’s direction. “Hillbilly, I saw you come in with that young man. He looks like you.”

“That’s my grandson.”

“Ah! I thought so. Is that his girlfriend?”

“My niece,” Hans said.

Hauer smiled pleasantly. “I am glad that their future is more promising than ours when we were their age. Love is better than war, wouldn’t you say?”

“I reckon,” Cole said guardedly. He didn’t trust a word that Hauer said.

“I have been thinking that this is more than a chance meeting,” Hauer said. “Perhaps we have an opportunity to get to know one another better. Let me invite you to come hunting this weekend in the Vosges Mountains. Some old friends have a hunting club that gathers there. The food is excellent, real German food, in a comfortable lodge. No foxholes for us anymore.”

“I don’t think so.”

Hauer smiled, not ready to give up. “Come now, I hope you will consider it. Last time, you almost bested me. This time, let me best you in hunting. It is a matter of honor.”

“Honor? I didn’t know you were familiar with the word.”

Hauer shrugged. “Please, let us put our differences aside. The war is over. You will like these mountains. Fresh air. Boars and stags. We hunt with dogs, you know, and also with beaters who drive the game toward the hunters.” Hauer looked at Hans. “Are you a hunter?”

“No, but I know that the Vosges are beautiful.”

“Yes! Yes! It is so true. You and your niece must come also.”

Hauer sounded so sincere and looked so eager that Hans seemed to waver. “Well—”

Hauer winked conspiratorially. “I knew you were an old hunter at heart. Most true Germans are. You will love this lodge and the fresh mountain air. Ah, the scenery! Hillbilly, what do you say?”

Cole surprised himself by responding not with a definite “no” as he had meant to, but with, “I’m not sure.”

“Come now, what are you going to do, shop for cuckoo clocks and beer steins to take home as souvenirs?”

As much as Cole hated to admit it, Hauer had something of a point. They were scheduled to be in Germany for several more days, and after the museum opening, their calendar was clear to do some exploring. Hunting sounded better to him than shopping or visiting museums.

Hauer’s invitation seemed genuine. Cole began to think that maybe he owed him the benefit of the doubt. The war had been a long time ago. He didn’t think that he would ever come to like Hauer or understand him, but maybe they could agree upon a truce. Besides, Cole wouldn’t mind showing him once and for all that he was the better shot.

“All right then,” Cole said.

“Wonderful! Bring your grandson. He will have a great time. Don’t worry—I have a shotgun that you can use.”

“A shotgun, huh?”

“I’m not sure that I trust you with a rifle, ha!”

They exchanged information, with