She and Q had discussed this exact situation, and she knew what he expected her to do. She’d always waved it away, but now that the situation had arrived, she struggled with the prospect of betraying her own husband. Put all the blame on him. To save herself.
Sleep finally claimed her in the wee hours of the morning, but her dreams were plagued with visions of her next interrogation. Kriminalkommissar Becker had been nice enough, but she knew that was simply a façade designed to break her down.
Chapter 5
It was still dark outside when two Gestapo officers hauled Q from the mattress, waking him from a fitful sleep. He didn’t even have the time to put his shoes on, and of course, there was no breakfast either. He followed them without complaining. It wouldn’t help.
This time, they took him to a different interrogation room: one without a table and only a single chair placed in the center of the room with a bare light bulb hanging overhead. The men shoved him into the room and ordered him to sit in the chair. Q did as they requested, trying not to think about whatever was to come. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in eighteen hours.
Kriminalkommissar Becker entered a few moments later, finishing a bun that smelled of ham. Q’s stomach growled. Becker wiped his mouth with his hand and smiled at him. “Good morning, Doctor Quedlin. I trust you had a good night’s sleep?”
Q remained quiet at the bait the Kriminalkommissar was throwing at him. Becker acknowledged his silence with a smirk and walked towards Q, circling around the chair. He came to stand behind him, and chills of anticipated agony rushed down Q’s spine.
“Have you had a chance to reconsider your answers to yesterday’s questions? Are you ready to tell me who you were working with?” the voice came from behind.
Q shook his head. “I worked alone. Nobody else knew what I was doing.”
The next moment, Q was hurled through the air and braced his arms to cover his head before it smacked against the cold stone floor. He blinked as his eyes watered and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
“Get up,” Becker said.
Q pushed himself back to his feet and sat in the chair once again, wiping the corner of his mouth with his hand. A streak of blood appeared.
Becker stroked his knuckles and approached Q until he towered over him, staring down at him with dead grey eyes. “Who are your partners?”
Q swallowed and answered again, “I worked alone. Nobody else knew what I was doing–”
“That’s a lie! It would be in your best interest to cooperate with me.”
“I’m willing to tell you anything about my subversive work,” Q hedged, and when Becker agreed, he felt a slight reprieve in his terror and started to talk. About the blueprints, how he gave all his research to the Russians. Everything. He talked for such a long time, he almost fooled himself into believing Becker would be satisfied.
“Now, tell me who helped you.”
“I worked alone,” Q insisted and received another blow to his jaw. The pain dizzied him, and for a minute he saw red stars.
“Gerald Meier said differently,” Becker said.
So, they’d caught the Russian agent. Q clung to the hope that Gerald hadn’t mentioned Erhard’s name. Thankfully, Gerald hadn’t known about Hilde and Martin. At least those two were safe.
“You arrested him, too?”
“Yes, and your friend Erhard Tohmfor.”
No. Not Erhard, too. Q yearned to know if Erhard was still alive, but he was too afraid to ask. His own survival looked dimmer by the minute. It was too late to cover for him. Erhard was not to be saved either way.
“Erhard Tohmfor was my friend,” Q explained, meeting Becker’s eyes. “I believe he might have known about my stealing intelligence and my sabotage acts but turned a blind eye to it. He was never actively involved.”
This time, the end of a wooden bat connected with Q’s back and doubled him over, forcing all the air from his lungs. Again and again. The agonizing pain exploded into black stars, and his breathing rattled as he panted for air. He must have passed out; when he came to, his arms and legs were shackled to the chair and Becker towered over him with a cup of deliciously fragrant coffee in his hand.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Becker said with a smug grin. “Let me tell you something. My department arrested the agent you knew as Gerald six weeks ago.”
Six weeks? Even with his damaged brain, Q knew this wasn’t possible. Kriminalkommissar Becker was lying. Because if it was true…
“But how? I met him just last week…” Q whispered, making an attempt to clear the fog from his mind.
“Well, unlike you, this man made a wise choice.” Becker stared down at him. “He agreed to act as a double agent for us in exchange for his life.”
This was surreal. Unbelievable. But probably the truth. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. That was why Gerald had started to ask all those questions. And why he’d insisted on another meeting before the assassination attempt.
Q’s entire worldview shattered with this revelation. A double agent. The feeling of betrayal hurt as much as the physical pain from Becker’s beatings. The person he’d trusted as a comrade for the same cause had betrayed everyone to save his own life. He swallowed hard, trying to hide his shock.
“You thought you could trust this Russian agent, but really…” Becker chuckled, his grin growing wider, “a man as smart as you…you should have known how treacherous the Russians are.”
Rage mixed with hurt and pain, and before Q could stop himself, he blurted out, “Well, this agent was, in fact, a German, so you see that only goes to show how treacherous the Germans are.”
Becker’s fist shot out and caught Q on the right side of his face, just a few inches below his eye. Thanks to his cuffs, he didn’t fall off the chair this time, but his vision grew blurry as his eye immediately swelled and his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.
“Remember, we are not stupid. Gerald has told us everything about you. Scum.” Becker spat in Q’s face. “He’s given us all the information you shared with him on your long walks together. We know everything. We also know about Erhard’s role in your little sabotage effort.”
Q was still sorting out the information when Becker struck again.
“We arrested your wife yesterday. Let’s hope she’s more cooperative than you are.” Becker bared his teeth in what was probably supposed to be a smile, and Q’s heart squeezed.
Not Hilde.
Q looked up. “Herr Kriminalkommissar, my wife is innocent. I never told her about my resistance work. She knows absolutely nothing. You must believe me. She is innocent in all of this.”
Becker looked at him with a calculating eye. “Who else besides Erhard and your wife was working with you?”
“No one, I swear. It was just Erhard and myself. Hilde had no idea what she was typing. She’s not a scientist. She couldn’t know.”
“I’m fed up with your lies,” Becker said and waved at another man. “Take him away.”
This time, they shoved him into a cell slightly bigger than the one he’d spent the first night in. This one, though, was crowded with at least ten other prisoners. None of them looked any better than Q probably did, but they moved around, groaning, to make space for the newcomer on the hard stone floor.
Q was terrified. The preferential treatment has ended.
Chapter 6
Hilde woke after a fitful sleep and stretched her cold and aching limbs. Muffled noises from the hallway outside her cell reached her ears, the first sign of other persons being held down here.
When the door opened half an hour later, she backed up against the protection of the wall and watched warily to see who’d come inside. A uniformed Gestapo officer waved his baton, pushed a tray inside with his foot, and then left without a word.
Hilde waited until she heard the bolt on the door engage before inspecting what she assumed was breakfast. She gulped down the foul-smelling water, then su
spiciously eyed the piece of bread and the bowl with an indefinable whitish mash. Even though her mind rebelled, her stomach reminded her that they’d conveniently forgotten to give her food last night.
She held her nose and forced down half of the disgusting mush. Then she chewed the hard-as-stone piece of bread, not knowing when she might be given a chance to eat again.
Before long, another officer arrived to deliver her to Kriminalkommissar Becker. He was sitting at the table in what looked like the same room she had been interrogated in the day before. The officer who’d escorted her leaned against the wall behind her.
“Good morning, Frau Quedlin, I hope you were not too uncomfortable last night?” He smiled and gestured for her to take a seat.
Hilde shrugged. “When can I go home?”
Becker steepled his hands atop the table, his eyes never leaving her. “That depends entirely on you and your willingness to cooperate. I have two wonderful children myself; you must be missing your sons. Is it the first time they’ve spent the night without you?”
She barely could press out, “Yes,” before her eyes watered at the thought of her two babies.
“It would be such a shame if they became orphans,” Becker mused, seemingly more to himself than to her.
That remark hit her harder than a punch to her stomach. She must have made a groaning sound because Becker now smiled at her benevolently.
“Well, well, Frau Quedlin. I have a soft spot in my heart for children, and therefore will make you an offer. Give me the names of everyone involved with your husband and the resistance effort he was part of. Everyone. Even the people you only suspect to be against the government.”
Here was her chance to go home to her children. All she had to do was betray everyone she knew and name ten, twenty, or thirty people Becker could go after.
“Does that mean I can go home again?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Possibly,” Becker agreed and smiled again. But his smile never reached his soulless eyes. Hilde was sure he was lying. Even if he wasn’t, could she live with her conscience if she did what he demanded?
“I would love to tell you, but I don’t know anything or anyone. I didn’t even know that my husband was engaged in this abhorrent behavior until yesterday.” She tried to sound as honest as possible.
“Now, Frau Quedlin, that is not quite the truth. Let’s talk about those papers you typed out for your husband.” Kriminalkommissar Becker slid some additional papers across the table to her.
Hilde looked at the papers, several of them simple patent requests and mundane notes she’d typed up for Q’s research. She saw no harm in identifying them and nodded. “I remember typing these, so yes, I typed these for my husband.”
“For once, you’re telling me the truth,” Becker said and produced the papers he’d shown her the day before and placed them side by side. “These papers were typed on the same typewriter.”
Hilde’s heart fell.
“Now explain to me why you lied yesterday?”
“Kriminalkommissar Becker, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize the papers. I typed many things for my husband. He’s horrible at working the machine and oftentimes brought his research notes home and asked me to type them up.” She wanted to jump up and run away, which was a rather stupid notion, given that she was inside the best-guarded building in Berlin. “I’m just a simple mother of two children, and frankly, I never gave much thought to what I was typing. It was usually at the end of the day when I was tired from caring for the children and our home.”
“Haven’t you ever wondered why your husband brought such sensitive material home with him?” Becker demanded to know.
Hilde’s neck hair stood on end. “I didn’t think it was sensitive.”
“Don’t you know that it’s a crime to steal classified material?” Becker thumped the table with his fist.
The table jumped, as did Hilde.
“No, he wasn’t stealing. It was all his own work,” she defended Q.
“How do you know?” Becker asked.
“I…he is an honest person.”
“An honest person? So why did he betray Führer and Fatherland then?”
Hilde shrugged. Whatever she said, it would be wrong.
Becker stood and walked around the table to put a hand on her shoulder. Her entire body stiffened. Then she felt his breath at her ear, and she closed her eyes.
“Do you love your husband, Frau Quedlin?”
“Yes.”
The hand grabbed her chin and turned her face until she was forced to stare into his eyes. “Does he love you?”
Hilde nodded.
“And still, you want to make me believe you had no idea about his political opinions. That he hated the admirable ideas of our Führer and collaborated with our enemy? That he was a communist in his heart?”
Hilde moaned as the grip tightened. “Yes. I mean, no. I didn’t know any of that.”
“So why didn’t you admit to typing those papers yesterday?” Becker asked again, squeezing her chin harder.
“I already told you, I didn’t recognize them.” Becker moved away and her face burned. Her skin probably showed the marks of his hand.
“Now, let’s keep to the truth, shall we?” Becker breathed into her ear, both his hands moving across her shoulders to rest around her neck.
Hilde gagged in panic. “I…I don’t know. I panicked. I thought maybe those papers had something to do with my arrest.”
“So, you knew there was something wrong about those papers?” he asked again and tightened the grip around her neck. Hilde thought he’d strangle her. Her pulse throbbed erratically as her vision began to dim. She kicked with her legs, clawed with her hands. She was desperate for air. Then she was free again.
As she gulped in precious oxygen, Becker strolled to the other side of the table and sat down. He steepled his hands again. “Talk.”
Terror held Hilde’s mind in her grip, and she couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. “No…I never thought there was something wrong with the papers. But yesterday, when you told me that my husband was accused of treason, I panicked. I thought maybe those papers had something to do with it.”
“And you deemed it wise to lie to the Gestapo? Don’t you know we have the means to find out the truth?” The threat in his voice made her shudder.
“I’m sorry.”
“So, what exactly was in those papers?”
“I don’t know.”
Becker waved his hand, and Hilde’s arm was jerked behind her back, probably by the officer who’d leaned against the wall. She screamed in pain. The pressure increased and she screamed until Becker waved again, and she was free.
“The truth, Frau Quedlin.”
She was sobbing and holding her sore shoulder, her words coming out in ragged exhalations. “The truth is I never knew anything.”
“I don’t believe you. See this.” Becker held out the piece of paper with blurred letters.
Hilde tried to hide her gasp, but it was too late. Becker had already noticed her reaction.
“You recognize that one, right?”
“Yes.” She did. Very well. It was the piece of paper where Q had given her explicit instructions to use several layers of paper on top of each other. Q’s words rang in her ears. It’s better that you don’t know. You need to be able to say you had no knowledge about the technical things you were typing.
“Why are you suddenly so nervous, when you had no idea what this was all about?” Becker smirked at her.
She was as good as dead. There was no sense in denying anymore. Her visceral reaction had given her away. Her brain was worn out, and the pain still lingered in her arm, making her unable to form a clear thought.
“At the time I was typing it, I didn’t think much of it because my husband was very peculiar with his inventions, but now after my arrest, it seemed suspicious to me.”
“You admit that you were helping your husband in his traitorous activities ag
ainst the Reich?” Becker’s voice was friendly, but his next words stung. “You scummy whore.”
Tears shot into her eyes. The lack of sleep and food, the constant interrogations, had taken a toll on her ability to focus. “I don’t. I…knew nothing. And I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And still you paled when I showed you the papers, you piece of scum.”
There had to be something to turn this situation around. Hilde racked her frightened mind for an excuse. Anything. “I thought, that maybe…my husband…some shady business…trying to sell his research to a competing company. A little cheating…but not treason…never...he was loyal.”
Loyal to his convictions. Just not to the monster who’s our Führer.
“Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing. Treason.” Becker stared at her until she squirmed and then stated, “We have arrested Erhard Tohmfor.”
Hilde caught her gasp, but tears pooled in her eyes, and she had to blink them away.
Becker was a well-trained interrogator and caught her tiny lapse. He pressed her for more answers: “Was Tohmfor involved in your husband’s traitorous activities?”
“He was his boss. An honest person.”
“Was he a traitor as well?” Becker shouted.
“My husband isn’t a traitor, and neither was Erhard!” she spat out and earned herself a slap to her face. She tasted blood on her lip as the heat exploded across her cheek.
“Your pig of a husband is the worst kind of traitor. And so are you. And Erhard Tohmfor. And who else? Give me names!”
Hilde started crying. She didn’t care anymore if Becker hit her or not. Maybe it would be better if he believed she was about to have a breakdown.
“Who else do you associate with?”
She swallowed and panicked deep inside. The Gestapo would already know this information, right? Or should I lie? Going with her first thought, she opted for a middle way. “My best friend is Erika Huber, the daughter-in-law of the late SS-Obersturmbannführer Wolfgang Huber. We often come together so our children can play.”
Unwavering: Love and Resistance in WW2 Germany Page 3