The Austrian: Book Two

by Ellie Midwood

  I thought to turn around and leave, but I guess she heard the sound of my shuffling feet in the perfect, undisturbed silence and she turned to me. I bet we both had the same expressions on our startled faces when our eyes met.

  “Herr Obergruppenführer?”

  “Frau Friedmann?”

  We both laughed a little awkwardly and I decided to at least shake her hand before leaving. As I approached the pew where she was sitting, I noticed that her eyes looked tired and red, as if she’d been crying recently. She didn’t say anything and only patted the wooden seat next to her, silently inviting me to join her. I also didn’t bring myself to disturb the silence as I slid next to her, throwing another inquisitive gaze at her pale face.

  “I didn’t know you were a church-goer.” Annalise finally spoke after a pause that lasted for a few minutes.

  “I’m not,” I admitted. “This is my first time…in several years.”

  She immersed herself back into her brooding as it seemed, not caring to reply. I didn’t know what was bothering her so much, and I didn’t feel that I had a right to pry. Instead, I only shifted a little closer to her and covered her hand with mine. She jerked slightly, as if she’d forgotten that I was sitting there with her, gave me a look that seemed helpless for some reason, and then silently interlaced her fingers with mine, squeezing my hand tightly in hers.

  “Why are you here?” Annalise addressed me again, her voice barely audible.

  “I don’t know,” I confessed. “Why are you?”

  She responded with an unsure shrug and rubbed my thumb with hers instead of answering.

  For the first time in my life I had no idea what to talk about, and yet those moments of silence that we were sharing felt so intimate that no empty words were needed to fill in the gaps. I only needed her hand in mine, refusing to let go, and her breathing, synchronized with mine to the second. I lifted our hands – the only things that were separating our bodies, replaced them on my lap and moved so close to her that our legs and shoulders were touching. She pressed closer into me as well.

  “You hate me, don’t you?” I asked, noticing that my voice slightly quivered.

  “Why?”

  “Because of what I do. Because of what I am. You hate your work, and me, too. That’s why you here. To cry, where no one can see.”

  “Then you must hate me too. For what I do and what I am.”

  “I would never be able to hate you,” I admitted, more to myself than to her.

  Annalise suddenly turned her head to me. “What if I were a Jew?”

  We looked at each other in the eye for another minute, still hand in hand, still so painfully close to each other that I could feel her breathing on my face.

  “What if I were a murderer?”

  Annalise didn’t reply. We kept staring at each other, as if trying to figure out which one of us was lying and to which extent, and if it really mattered anymore. She studied my face for a little while, slowly lifted her hand to me without releasing the other, caressed my cheek before kissing me softly on the corner of my mouth and then said quietly, “I don’t care what you are.”

  “I don’t care what you are either,” I replied and pressed her body into the pew with my shoulder, opening her lips with mine. She was the biggest mystery; a mystery which I hoped to solve one day.

  _______________

  Vienna, August 1939

  The words of Heydrich’s agent were a complete mystery to me, together with the fact that he asked for a meeting at a discreet location of my choosing. We drove in silence on a stifling August evening to the city outskirts, for he wanted to speak in an open space, as if afraid that I could have my car wired.

  He was a nervous fellow, with shifty eyes and sweaty palms – the first thing I noticed when we shook hands. He introduced himself as Hanz Wolf, to which I smirked and told him to ask his superiors to give him a better fake name, one that didn’t attract too much attention for being too widely used. He licked his lips nervously, but didn’t reply.

  “So let me get this straight.” I stopped in front of my car and leaned on its front, lighting a cigarette. I offered an opened case to my guest and he gratefully grabbed one with a slightly shaking hand. “You need me to sign release forms for twenty to forty internees from one of the Austrian camps and deliver them to the German border without asking any questions and without informing the camp Kommandant. Also you want me to obtain… Regular Polish Army uniforms?”

  “That is correct, Herr Gruppenführer.”

  I took a long drag on my cigarette, eyeing the man in front of me. He shifted from one foot to another and looked down.

  “Is your boss Heydrich planning some bizarre dress-up party or has he officially nothing better to do than distract me from my duties with such nonsense?”

  The agent grew even more restless under my interrogation.

  “I really have no right to discuss anything, Herr Gruppenführer. I’m only here to deliver the orders.”

  I once again reached into my pocket and in the light of the headlights scanned the order signed by Reinhard Heydrich. I was to burn it in front of his agent before dismissing him with my consent. There was definitely something extremely wrong with the whole scheme, and I had very little time to analyze my nemesis’s intentions and react accordingly.

  Knowing Heydrich’s cunning nature and his ways of dealing with certain people that he needed to dispose of, I rubbed my chin, deciding if this plan was directed in some way against me personally. Was he going to incriminate me in something and use this as a reason for my execution? Make me agree to release these people and set me up, accusing me of high treason? And what’s with all the secrecy around it? Why didn’t he use the telephone to instruct me personally on the matter like he always did before? Why send his man? Why were no written orders to be left? And why the Polish uniforms?

  One thing I was positive about: while I held this paper in my hands, I was safe. As soon as I burnt it and agreed to go on with the whole enterprise, I would be on my own and in a very dangerous situation. I certainly didn’t want to end up like the chief of the SA, Ernst Röhm, so I squashed the unfinished cigarette under my heel and motioned Heydrich’s man back into the car.

  “I will have to make a phone call before I can agree to this.”

  The agent made the biggest eyes at me. “Herr Gruppenführer, it is strictly forbidden to disclose any information—”

  “Yes, yes, I can read, I saw that in the order,” I interrupted him at once, starting the car. “I will have to call Reichsführer. He must be aware of this, and if he assures me personally that I am safe to proceed with this, you will get my consent. Sound fair enough to you?”

  “Yes, Herr Gruppenführer.” He lowered his head and then asked me quietly, in a begging tone, “Please, don’t call from your office. If one of your phones is tapped… I will get executed too. For disobeying the orders of secrecy.”

  “Don’t worry. I will speak discretely,” I assured the poor fellow. Judging by his look and how often he dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief, he wanted to be anywhere but here in Vienna, dealing with Heydrich’s highly strange orders. I grasped the wheel tighter and tried to concentrate on driving.

  Back in my office, almost alone in the deserted building, except for the guards remaining by the doors, I offered my Berlin guest a glass of brandy, which he drank in a desperate manner, watching me with horror as I picked up the phone. I had an emergency line in order to reach Reichsführer, and so I used it, stating my purpose to his always alert adjutant.

  “I will delegate your purpose to Reichsführer, Herr Gruppenführer,” he said. “Await the call within five minutes, please. Heil Hitler.”

  “Heil.”

  I put the receiver down and poured more brandy for Herr Wolf. I only gulped mine down when the phone rang and made us both jerk. I picked up the receiver warily.

  “Heil Hitler, Reichsführer.”

  “Heil Hitler, Gruppenführer. I was having tea with th
e Führer when Wilhelm called me. It better be important, at this hour especially.”

  “It is, Reichsführer. I have Herr Wolf with me… with Gruppenführer Heydrich’s orders.” I started with an inquisitive intonation, but not getting any reaction from the other end I continued carefully. “Am I… to proceed with those orders?”

  “Yes, Gruppenführer.”

  Silence. I frowned slightly, waiting for something more to follow.

  “Is that all, Gruppenführer?”

  “Yes, Reichsführer. I’m sorry for bothering you with this. Just wanted to make sure that you… were aware…”

  “Of course I am aware! I am Reichsführer SS, aren’t I?!”

  “Jawohl, Reichsführer. I apologize again. Please, give my apologies to the Führer as well for interrupting your… conversation.”

  “Just go do what you are told to do, Ernst. And stop asking questions. They won’t do you any good.”

  “Jawohl, Reichsführer. Goodnight.”

  “Heil Hitler, you meant to say,” he corrected me with an irritated tone to his voice.

  “Yes, of course. Heil Hitler, Reichsführer.”

  He cut the line after a moment’s pause.

  I refilled our glasses once again, and we drank in silence. I took Heydrich’s order out of my pocket and placed it in the ashtray that had been cleaned by the janitor, ready for tomorrow. I flickered my silver lighter which had an SS Totenkopfverbande death head symbol on it and lit up one corner. After we both watched the paper burn to a little pile of ashes, I nodded at Herr Wolf.

  “Tell your superior that I need three days to get him what he needs. I will contact you as soon as I’m ready for the delivery.”

  “Jawohl, Herr Gruppenführer.” He jumped up from his chair and clicked his heels eagerly, obviously relieved that I hadn’t said anything incriminating within the unreliable office walls.

  Wolf left, and I reached inside one of the drawers looking for the aspirins I kept there. Amongst his multiple talents, Reinhard Heydrich knew how to give one the severest of headaches without even uttering a single word.

  Three days after Wolf’s visit, Otto and I drove in silence in the middle of the night. Otto was concerned, no less than I was, with the secrecy surrounding the request given by the Chief of the RSHA, but offered me his unconditional loyalty and services without giving it a second thought. As he always did.

  The two of us had personally selected thirty prisoners from Mauthausen, a new concentration camp that was still being constructed under the supervision of Oswald Pohl’s department. The camp Kommandant, a young, ambitious man by the name of Ziereis, who was rapidly promoted due to his unquestionable subordination and high bureaucratic efficiency concerning the camp development, agreed to release his internees very reluctantly, but only after I mentioned that special orders had been given by Reichsführer himself. I made him sign the paper that I had typed myself, so that even my adjutant wouldn’t know of its contents, saying that he would be subject to the military tribunal if he discussed these special orders with anybody, including his immediate family.

  Otto and I watched the shackled men, still dressed in their rags, being led into a big truck that I had commandeered from the Austrian Gestapo headquarters the day before. We checked that the locks on the door was closed after the last one was helped into it, and drove off the camp territory.

  On the way to the German border, where the exchange was to take place, we smoked so many cigarettes that even cracked windows didn’t help the heavy smell lingering inside. Otto checked his gun once again, and the other one that he kept hidden in his boot.

  “You think it’ll get to that?” I asked him without taking my eyes off the road.

  “I can’t be sure about anything with that Blond Beast.” Otto called Heydrich by his well-deserved nickname. “He’s up to no good with these poor devils in the truck. He might want to get rid of the witnesses, and the witnesses would be us. So, answering your question, if it does get to that, you jump behind the wheel while I cover you and get the hell away from there to the Swiss border. You’ll figure something out from there.”

  “I’m not going to run with my tail between my legs leaving you behind,” I argued.

  “Hey, what good are two dead bodies going to be? This way, at least you’ll escape.”

  “No, Otto. If we run, we run together. If we die, we die together. I won’t agree to anything less.”

  He beamed at me without saying a word. I grinned with a corner of my mouth too. Maybe others were right after all, saying that we were twins, separated at birth. I had never felt such a strong connection with any of my blood brothers, that’s for sure. And I highly doubted that any of my brothers would agree to die while protecting me so selflessly.

  Otto tensed up as I slowed the truck down, approaching two cars in the appointed location on a side road. We sat rigidly, scanning the darkness pierced by the headlights before we came to a complete stop. I reached into my pocket and took the safety off on my gun just in case, before jumping out of the truck. I spotted Heydrich right away.

  I saluted him and his escort, consisting of almost ten men, who bored their eyes into Otto and I, like a pack of dogs waiting for a command. Heydrich disposed of his cigarette, checked his watch and saluted me back.

  “You’re seventeen minutes early,” he said in his high-pitched voice, approaching me and quickly looking Otto up and down. “I’m impressed. You have my merchandise?”

  I motioned my head to the back of the truck. The Chief of the RSHA walked over to the doors and gave a sign to his people to open them. He blinded the prisoners with his flashlight, as they had ridden in the dark for a couple of hours, then he turned back to me.

  “They are much too thin.”

  “The lack of food in your camps might have something to do with it,” I replied sarcastically.

  “You could’ve picked out the fresh ones, not these…” Heydrich pursed his full lips without finishing the sentence, obviously dissatisfied with the condition of the internees after giving them a second look. “Oh well, what’s done can’t be undone. They won’t be able to run away at least.”

  I frowned, trying to figure out where they were supposed to run away from, and why Heydrich would release them from the camp at all so as to risk the possibility of their escape.

  Heydrich nodded a couple of times, as if deciding something for himself, and turned on his heels to face me once again. I almost expected him to put a flashlight into my face, like he did with the prisoners.

  “Where are the uniforms?”

  “I didn’t have a chance to get them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Gruppenführer, where would I get Polish Army uniforms in the course of three days only and without engaging any of my agents? You weren’t expecting me to drive to Poland and rob one of their army barracks while they were sleeping, were you?”

  Heydrich squinted his piercing blue eyes at me and thought of saying something, but suddenly waved me off with a dismissive gesture.

  “To hell with the uniforms then. We’ll get them ourselves. Hoffmann,” he yelled to one of his men. “Get behind the wheel, you’ll drive the truck. My car will drive in the front and another one in the end of the column.”

  After dispatching his orders, Heydrich saluted me with two fingers by his uniform cap.

  “What about us? How are we supposed to get back?” I protested.

  “If you follow this road, in about twenty miles you’ll get to the train station. And if you walk fast enough, you’ll get there just in time for the first one that leaves at five. Heil Hitler, Kaltenbrunner.” He finished with a poisonous smile.

  I made a motion to go after the insolent bastard, but Otto quickly grabbed my elbow, preventing me from doing something that could be a fatal mistake in given circumstances.

  “Calm down, Ernst,” he said quietly, firmly holding me in place. “We are alive at least. You’ll get him later, when the time is right.”

  Heydrich
’s car honked at us, adding to the insult, and we were left in the complete dark, in the middle of nowhere.

  “Oh, I will get to him, Otto. Mark my words, I will.”

  We waited till our eyes adapted to the darkness and started making our way to the train station.

  By the weekend I had almost forgotten about the whole ordeal, while enjoying the favors of a Viennese countess, Geli. She was my new mistress, much more agreeable than Lotte had been on her best day, and her sole purpose seemed to be to devote her time to fulfilling my every wish, in and outside of my bed.

  I was resting my head on her ample breast after our usual morning passionate love-making session, when she inquired if I was hungry and if she should make me breakfast while I took a little nap. I kissed her nipple in agreement and without opening my eyes, turned away from her, hugging a soft pillow as a replacement. Geli turned the radio on in the kitchen, not too loud in order not to disturb me, but added volume as the Führer addressed the nation.

  “Ernst!” She ran into the bedroom, closing a silk robe around her body. “Did you hear that? Poland attacked us last night! The Führer declared war on them!”

  In less than a minute I was sitting by the radio, listening to the announcement, one that didn’t make any sense to me. In less than five minutes I got a phone call from Otto.

  “Did you hear?” was his first question.

  “Yes, I’ve just heard. But it doesn’t make any sense! Poland would never attack us first.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  We both went quiet for a moment, until I asked at last, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Where did the attack happen?”

  “Right by our border. Thirty Polish soldiers attacked our radio transmitting station. All of them got killed.”

  “And all of them were wearing Polish Army uniforms.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, yes, I am thinking what you’re thinking. That bastard dressed them up and—”

  I shushed him before he could say something else.

  “We’ll talk about it later, Otto.”