Before The Brightest Dawn (The Half-Bloods Trilogy Book 3)
Page 51
Max, remaining silent, watched Biermann’s face play a melody of expressions, as he tangled with both sorrow and rage. Were Paul here, he would feel a modicum of pity for his father-in-law. He would see the affection Erika had for her grandfather, and perhaps he’d even allow Biermann access to the child. But Paul is not here, Max thought, and he had no such qualms about ripping Erika from Biermann’s arms and seeing the evil bastard suffer.
“Shall we go, Father?” Max said, breaking the long, tense silence.
Dieter smiled at his son. “Why don’t you go outside for a bit of fresh air? I would like a word with Freddie in private.”
“I despise you, Vogel, and I hate Paul for the coward he is,” Biermann spat, as soon as Max had left. “I loathe your youngest son, Wilmot, too. He’s a self-pitying whiner who thinks he has suffered more than anyone else. Cried like a baby when he was here. ‘oh, poor me, no one knows what I went through.’ Damn sissy. You can’t possibly be proud of any of your sons.”
“Oh, but I am, Freddie. Paul is wounded, but he will recover. Max is going to receive a medal for valour, and Wilmot will be returned to us from a prisoner-of-war camp within months. We receive letters from him every week. He plans to go back to America. My boy is in love. Isn’t that wonderful?” Dieter’s voice broke, but he quickly recovered. “My sons have fought well … all of them. You, on the other hand, have proved yourself to be a monster who needs to be put down.”
“I don’t give a damn what you think of me! I did what I was ordered to do. I didn’t shirk my responsibilities.” Biermann leant forward in his chair. “You hypocrite. You felt the same way about the Jews as I did. You were all for the racial cleansing programmes, Dieter. I was not the one who facilitated the gas production … that was you, in your factory. You know, I reported you to the SS and Gestapo. I told them you were a traitor and probably still alive, and they believed me, I know they did. You should not have returned to Berlin. Someone in the Reich will shoot you for the dog you are.”
Biermann was sweating, and his lips were turning blue. Pity crossed Dieter’s eyes, but it was gone in a flash. Rising from the couch, he said, “You really don’t know what’s going on, do you? You are a deluded old fool. Face reality, Freddie … your glorious leader has blown his brains out. There is no Reich, no Himmler, Göring, Goebbels or Bormann – they’re all defeated, incarcerated, powerless, or dead – already dusty words in the annals of history.” Without another word, Dieter left the room.
Two British military policemen entered the living room seconds after Dieter left. They were followed by a British intelligence officer, dressed in a captain’s army uniform. Sweeping his eyes over Biermann, he said in fluent German, “My name is Captain Duncan Anderson. Fredrich Biermann, I am arresting you for the crimes of mass murder and abuse of human rights, committed in the city of Łódź, Poland…”
“Get out of my house. Get out! You have no authority here,” Biermann spluttered.
Anderson continued, “Abiding by the tenets of the Allied Governments’ Declaration on German Atrocities in Occupied Europe, which states that those who planned, carried out, or otherwise participated in mass murder and other war crimes will be hunted to the uttermost ends of the earth in order that justice may be done, I order you to come with me.” He nodded to his men. “Handcuff him.”
“This is ridiculous,” Biermann said, recoiling in his chair with a look of horror. “I am a servant of Germany! I am not a criminal. I did my duty – take your damn hands off me!”
Breathless, Biermann was unable to fight off the hands gripping his wrists and locking the handcuffs on him before pulling him out of the chair. He swayed on his feet like a drunk. “You will regret this.”
“Get him out of here,” Anderson said.
Being held up by his arms, Biermann looked around his living room with panicked eyes “I have to organise my belongings. I can’t … no, I can’t leave my house like this! May I at least put on my uniform and say goodbye to my granddaughter?”
“We will see to your uniform,” Captain Anderson said, without mentioning the child.
“This is outrageous. I demand a lawyer,” Biermann panted as he was half-carried to the front door.
Frau Mayer stood on the top landing in the hallway, stunned realisation and fear in her eyes. Biermann shouted over his shoulder, “This is a misunderstanding. I’ll be back soon.”
Outside, the two British military cars were parked one behind the other. Biermann shaking with the weakness of body and mind, lost his legs from under him when he saw Kurt holding the back-passenger door of the second car open.
“No – no. This can’t be!” Biermann, losing all semblance of dignity, froze in front of Kurt at the car door, panting for air like a heat-stricken dog. Unable to shift his ogling eyes from Kurt’s face, he spat, “How are you still alive, Sommer?”
Kurt, looking thin and wan smirked, “Ach, call it fate … luck, destiny … the chance to do this. Get in the car, Herr Biermann. Mind your head.”
When Biermann was pushed into the back-passenger seat, Dieter approached Kurt’s car. “Wait a moment, please,” he told the driver. Then he got into the car beside Biermann.
“You and I will never meet again, Freddie,” Dieter said, with no hint of regret. “You will be tried with all the other criminals, and you will hang for your crimes.”
“I will not. I was a German policeman. I did nothing wrong.”
“Yes, that’s right. You were just a policeman, not an important government figure at all, which means you will spend considerable time in a prison cell whilst awaiting trial. Perhaps you will even appreciate the luxury in which you will be held, compared to … the Łódź ghetto? Ach, look on the bright side, with a bit of luck, your heart will give out before you reach the scaffold.”
“Go to hell, Dieter,” Biermann muttered.
Dieter began to leave but turned back to Biermann with one foot already out of the car. “I almost forgot. My man, Kurt, mentioned you were interested in the whereabouts of my valuable artworks?”
Biermann stared at Dieter, as though hypnotised by his voice.
“Yes? No? Whatever. They were collected undamaged yesterday from under the floorboards of a hut in the Grunewald forest where I hid them in 1940,” Dieter said. “They are in the hands of the British authorities now. I thought you would like to know.”
******
Late that afternoon, Dieter, Kurt, Max, and baby Erika arrived at the Vogel’s damaged house. Dieter got out of the car and looked at the one side of his home that still had a roof and walls. The Vogels would never live there again. It, like all other ties to their previous lives in Germany, including Dieter’s sister and brother-in-law who had been killed during an Allied bombing raid, had been destroyed.
Laura and Judith hurried down the driveway, now devoid of the ornamental wrought-iron gates. Dieter, leaving the car first with Erika, beamed at Laura as he handed the baby to her.
“Meet your granddaughter,” he said.
Erika, understandably traumatised by the brusque changes in her life, stopped crying and studied Laura curiously. Laura beamed at her in turn.
Judith took Max’s arm, and Kurt followed behind as the family went inside.
Two hours later, the Vogels prepared to say goodbye to their old home. Laura and Judith had managed to salvage a few possessions that held sentimental value. The house had been looted, but no one had seemed interested in old photographs or the copper teapot that Laura’s grandmother had given her years earlier. The teapot had been Laura’s prized possession; the last thing her granny had ever given her before her death, and she had been delighted to find it still there.
Judith sat on the cushions of the broken couch with Erika in her arms, while outside, Dieter and Kurt packed the car with the family’s bags. The little girl was comparatively calm and tolerant of the strangers who were cuddling and pawing her. She giggled at Judith, who was pulling funny faces.
“Sappt!” Erika demanded, mispr
onouncing the German word for juice. Then she quirked her head thoughtfully and added, “Bitte schön?”
All three Vogels jumped to fulfil her request.
Max, once again leaning against the living room wall, observed how easily Judith had slipped into a motherly role. “Are you certain this is what you want, darling?”
“Yes, my love. It is also what Paul would want. He will always be Erika’s father, and Valentina was her mother, but we will be good parents to this little angel. I’ve never been as certain of anything, except my love for you. She will be our daughter, Max, and I couldn’t be happier about it.”
Laura, who had been at the living room window watching Dieter at the car, dried her eyes and went outside to join him.
“Are we ready to leave?” she asked Dieter.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
Laura stared at Kurt, her eyes pooling with sorrow. “Kurt, you and I have not always seen eye to eye, but I can’t thank you enough for looking after my Paul and for telling us about what a good, brave man he was at the end.”
“I’m sorry we’ve not had the time for me to tell you everything that happened to him, but one day, I will write to you about his years in Poland, Frau Vogel.” Kurt, who had been at the house upon the Vogel’s arrival in Berlin two days earlier, glanced at Dieter, and then shifted his eyes back to Laura. “There is one thing I want to say. I don’t know if it will bring you comfort, but you should know that Paul was in love with a wonderful woman. Her name was Amelia, and when they died, they were holding each other’s hands. No one can be truly happy in war, but he was fulfilled with her at his side.”
Kurt then surprised a tearful Laura by pulling Paul’s journal from his inside pocket. He had removed the most intimate accounts in it; those parts he felt should remain with Paul. “He loved to write poetry and record his thoughts in this notebook. I know he would want you to have it. It will explain what was in his heart much more than I ever could.”
Laura took it and held it close to her heart. “Thank you for this, Kurt. It means a great deal to me. Are you packed?”
“Me? Why?” Kurt frowned with confusion.
“You’re coming to England with us, silly man! And I don’t want to hear you calling me Frau Vogel again … I am Laura from now on. You are family, and we have plenty of rooms in our house in Kent. Dieter told me you wanted to make your way to England when you got security clearance, but we couldn’t bear to leave you behind, so Dieter and Heller rushed through the paperwork with the British authorities. It’s all been decided. I’m going to feed you up, Kurt Sommer, and I won’t take no for an answer. That man! I can’t believe he didn’t tell you.”
As Laura held Kurt in a warm hug, Dieter looked on and chuckled to himself. Finally, his Laura had softened towards Kurt. He had his old friend back, two of his sons were safe, and he was looking forward to spoiling his grandchildren.
All would be well for the Vogels.
Hi, dear readers.
I hope you enjoyed the German Half-Bloods Trilogy. If you did, please leave a comment on Amazon.
Until the next book, coming in 2020.
About Jana Petken
Jana Petken is a bestselling historical fiction novelist. She served in the British Royal Navy and during her service studied Naval Law and History.
After the Navy, she worked for British Airways and turned to writing after an accident on board an aircraft forced her to retire prematurely.
She is critically acclaimed as a gritty, hard-hitting author who produces bold, colourful characters and riveting storylines, and she has won numerous major international awards for her works.
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Other titles available from Jana Petken:
Multi Award Winning #1Bestseller, The Guardian of Secrets
Screenplay, The Guardian of Secrets
#1 Bestselling Series: The Mercy Carver Series:
Award-Winning Bestseller Dark Shadows
Award-Winning Bestseller Blood Moon
Multi-Award-Winning #1Bestseller, The Errant Flock
Award-Winning Bestseller, The Scattered Flock
Award Winning, Flock, The Gathering of The Damned
Multi-Award-Winning #1Bestseller, Swearing Allegiance
Multi Award Winning, #1 Bestseller, The German Half-Bloods
#1Bestseller The Vogels: On All Fronts
Before The Brightest Dawn
Audio Books
The Guardian of Secrets, in association with Tantor Media
Swearing Allegiance, The Mercy Carver Series, The Flock Trilogy.
The German Half-Bloods.
in association with Cherry-Hill Audio Publishing