Trapped in an Elevator

The doors slide open with a ping and the two men stand face to face.

'Bugger.'

'Vinston.'

'Adolf.'

The rotund P.M. steps inside and chuckles quietly under his breath.

'Going up, I assume?' says Hitler, pushing the door release button.

'Yes, Adolf, yes. I'm going up.'

'Ze conference?'

He exhales loudly. 'Yes yes, Adolf. I'm going to the conference.'

'I had no idea you verr coming. It's-'

His companion isn't listening, twiddling the dials on his briefcase lock, reading the safety instructions on the wall.

The 17 button glows red. Motors whir above them.

Crunch. Clang.

'Shizen.'

Silence fills the tiny space.

The German stands, smiling awkwardly, shifting, shuffling, inspecting his boots.

The emergency alarm handle breaks off in Churchill's hand.

'Shizen.'

'I can't believe the Swiss talked me in to this bloody thing,' exclaims Churchill, puffing at his cigar.

'Vell, I came for zee skiing, and zee chocolate. I love zee chocolate!'

'I'm sure you do, Adolf. I'm sure you do.' He looks to the ground. Of all people, he thinks. Of all bloody people.

Fifteen minutes drip by. The building around them is hushed and still, as if holding its breath.

Hitler removes an empty cigarette case from his pocket and flaps it open loudly. 'Vould you mind?' he asks, nodding at the old man's cigar.

Churchill stands for a moment then shakes his head in defeat, dipping a hand into his overcoat pocket.

The two men smoke. Forty awkward minutes pass.

Hitler pops open the swastika clasp of his attache case.

'If you vould like,' he says. 'I picked zees up at zee duty frees.' He removes a bottle of vintage cognac.

'Go on then, Adolf. I don't see why not.'

...

Three hours later a Swiss engineer flicks a switch on a control panel in the basement. Cables roll and the elevator rises. At the seventeenth floor the doors ping open. Both men are sat spread legged on the elevator floor beneath a cloud of cigar smoke. The empty bottle stands between them.

'...Ja, so, she says to me, she said "eezer ze mustache goes, or I do!" Zees vimmin huh? "Vell I'll call you a taxi," I replied!'

The two men roar with laughter. They clamber to their feet and step out onto the marble floor of a cavernous reception hall.

'Vell, I guess vee missed ze start of ze conference, Vinnie.'

'Looks that way, old chap.'

A young man in a porter's suit sits at a desk under a giant painting of mountains and meadows and goats.

'You boy,' calls Churchill. 'Which way is the conference?'

'Conference?' comes a nervous reply.