The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 2: Cold Wars (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #2) by Michael Panush

caught me. He held me up. Together, we regained my fallen automatics. I took the Elder Sign from my neck and handed it back to him.
    “Thanks,” I said. “You saved my life. Innsmouth was an ocean of violence and corruption and darkness. I was drowning in it and you pulled me out.”
    “We’re partners, Mort,” Weatherby replied softly. “And that’s what partners do.”
    He helped me limp back into town, and out of the driving rain.



Mort Candle's War
    They met in a clearing. A small carpet of snow frosted the trees of the Black Forest, and the air felt sharp in Sergeant Morton Candle’s lungs and throat. The dirt crunched under his boots, and the warmth of the cigarette in the corner of his mouth was a small relief. His tommy gun rested under his arm as he stared into the darkness of the forest, at the half-a-dozen SS stormtroopers heading his way. His squad’s sniper, Elkins, was perched on a branch somewhere above Morton. The sniper and a treaty agreement were the only assurance he had that the Nazis wouldn’t kill him on sight.
    Sergeant Candle pulled the cigarette from his lips and tossed it away. “All right, you damn Krauts!” he cried. “That’s far enough!” They stopped moving. Mort had seen enough of their black and butternut and pea green cameo uniforms and round helmets, their shining submachine guns and bolt-action rifles, and their calm, utterly loyal faces to last him a lifetime. The Waffen-SS were the toughest foes Sergeant Candle had ever faced, and he doubted he would see their like if he lived to be a hundred.
    “Very well, Sergeant Candle.” The leader of the Germans took a single step forward, standing in front of Candle. This was General Von Koch. Mort recognized him from the briefing. It was impossible to mistake a man like that. He looked like he had been hewn out of solid rock, his features sharp and severe. He was utterly hairless, with a monocle wedged in one eye and colorless lips in an emotionless line. “We can talk here, I suppose.” His English was flawless.
    “Yeah,” Mort said. “It was you that called this meeting, Von Koch. So what do you say you start talking?”
    “You wish for our conversation to be brief and to the point, Herr Candle. I appreciate this to no end.” Von Koch spoke like he had practiced his words before a mirror. They were clear and free of feeling. “I know you have the Stein child under the protection of your squad. I know they are sequestered at a nearby church. I want you to know that I and my men have you completely outnumbered and we are approaching your position rapidly.”
    Candle nodded. “I figured as much,” he said. “So what do you want?”
    “The Stein child possesses knowledge that is integral to the Third Reich’s occult warfare programs. His father, Dr. Wolfgang Stein, taught the child everything he knew. Quite simply, Herr Candle, we need the Stein child. Give him to us, and I will allow my men to open a gap in their ranks, providing you with an attempt to escape and join Patton’s Third Army.”
    “Uh-huh,” Candle agreed. “I got a question – your pet wolfhound, Morgen, I believe his name was, went a little rabid and killed Weatherby’s mom and pop. And even before that, the poor kid was practically a prisoner in his own castle, thanks to you and your goose-steppers. Why exactly would he want to help Old Adolf’s war effort?”
    Von Koch twitched. “He will be persuaded, Herr Candle.”
    “I’ll bet.” Candle put his hands in his pockets. “You got that treaty in writing? You Germans like everything neat, orderly and by the book, right?”
    “Indeed.” Von Koch pulled an envelope from his pocket. He held it out to Mort Candle. “The agreement is detailed here. You have my word that I will adhere to it.”
    “Actually, General, I got something else for you to do with that agreement.” Candle smiled. “Listen carefully now. I want you to take that letter, reach down, and shove it right up your ass. Can