by Renee Ryan
Time was running out, not only for this mission but for everyone, including the British. England had suffered unprecedented losses from the Nazi secret weapon they were investigating, half of which were merchant ships carrying much needed supplies. If the British Isles were cut off from the rest of the world, England would fall to Germany. And if England fell, who would rise up to stop Hitler?
Katia could not put her trust in anyone other than herself. With a man like Hitler at the helm of Germany, the stakes were too high. “We don’t know the mission has been compromised,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t matter. The moment you left that chair out of place was the moment you became a liability.”
“Not necessarily. I can find out the extent of the damage tomorrow night, at my mother’s party when the admiral arrives.”
His jaw tightened. Clearly, he was having a hard time holding on to his patience. “We can’t wait that long. Our options are dwindling. But if I leave now I may still be able to salvage this mess.”
“Wherever you’re going, take me with you.” Desperation made her voice come out shrill.
“Katarina.” He pushed forward and reached for her hand. “My darling.” The endearment, along with compassion in his eyes, cut past her well-laid defenses.
She placed her palm against his.
“Why is this so important to you? Tell me what is driving your resolve. Perhaps I can help.”
She trembled at the implication of his words. Did he know what he asked of her? The terrible burden he would take on his shoulders if she answered him truthfully?
Pressing his lips into a grim line, Reiter tugged her against his chest. He held her tightly in his arms, too tightly, as though he feared she would pull away at any moment.
In truth, he had nothing to worry about. She relaxed in his embrace. If only for this one instant, she wanted to rest in this man’s strength. He felt real and solid and trustworthy.
“Have faith in me,” he whispered into her hair. “Trust me with your secret.”
She heard his sincerity. And in that moment, she knew that she could trust him. She would trust him. “I have a Jewish ancestor, a maternal grandparent.”
Her words were barely audible but she knew he’d heard her because his already tight hold squeezed even more.
She struggled to free herself.
He loosened his embrace and stepped back first. His blue eyes stared at her for a long moment, giving her a glimpse into their unguarded depths. She saw pain. Raw pain.
“Does Schmidt know?”
“No. And he can never find out. No one can find out.” She grasped his arm. “My mother must not be put in danger.”
“I understand.”
He took her hand, placed a soft kiss on her palm, and then stepped back again. Although he’d created physical distance, she detected no other withdrawal in him. In fact, with his stiff shoulders and strained gaze, he looked as tortured as she felt.
“Don’t look at me that way,” she whispered.
He cupped her cheek with his palm, the rough calluses warm against her skin. “You are very brave, Katarina.”
She leaned into his hand. “I am no such thing. I…I’m frightened all the time.”
“Then why?” He lowered his hand slowly. “Why do you stay in Germany? Why—” He cut off his own words. “Your mother.”
“Yes.”
He knew everything now.
All the subterfuge between them was gone. There was only honesty left. And truth. The kind of purity of emotion she hadn’t known since her childhood.
Unfortunately, she was not a child anymore. She lived in a dangerous world of mean-spirited men with evil agendas. And she’d just laid her secret before a man she’d met only a day ago.
Panic tried to claw to the surface at the realization. Katia shoved the emotion back with a hard swallow. And then she did something she hadn’t done since she was nine years old. She prayed.
Heavenly Father, please let this man be worthy of my trust.
What if God still ignored her? What if she’d said the prayer too late?
She knew so little about this man. Nothing, really. Nothing, except the fact that he was a dangerous spy with his own set of personal agendas.
And she’d just admitted the one thing that could get her and her mother killed.
What had she done?
She’d become weak. He’d made her weak with his sincerity and answering pain.
She was vulnerable now, completely at his mercy. If he proved false, who would rescue her? God? The Lord hadn’t saved her father. Why would He save her now?
Her hand flew to her throat. She’d made a terrible blunder with her confession. What if—
“No, Katarina. Don’t fear me.” He pulled her into his arms once again. “I will never hurt you. Never.”
She believed him.
Lord, Lord, why bring this man to me now? When there is still so much work to be done in Germany, so many lives to save and so little time left?
Pressed against him, she could feel his heart beating as hard as her own.
“We have much to discuss,” Reiter said. “But I cannot put off my…errand any longer.”
“Please, take me with you.” She couldn’t bear to do nothing, not when she’d been the one to compromise the mission.
“It’s too dangerous.” He released a long breath of air. “Let me take you home. I’ll come for you once I’ve completed my task and we’ll talk. Really talk.”
The look he gave her was full of promises. He was no longer the jaded spy or hardened skeptic she’d met the night before. He was a man smitten with her, a man she could trust wholeheartedly, a man willing to protect her with his life.
She’d seen a similar look before, in a number of masculine gazes. But this time she knew the same unguarded expression was there in her eyes, as well.
“Trust me, Katarina,” he whispered. “I will help you. And your mother.”
Her heart softened toward him.
She was lost. Deeply and truly lost.
“All right,” she agreed. “You may take me home.”
“You’ll wait for me there?”
“I’ll wait.” For as long as you ask.
At the yielding look in Katarina’s eyes, Jack caught his breath. He wanted to be worthy of such unabashed trust. He had no idea if he was. Lord, don’t let me fail this woman. I need Your strength.
Would his short prayer be enough? After all the sins he’d committed, would God hear him now when another person’s life depended on his actions?
Afraid for them both, Jack lowered his head toward Katarina’s and then stopped halfway down.
What was he doing?
He took a step back and shoved a hand through his hair.
Head swimming, muscles tense, he took another step back, away from temptation, away from a woman who had the power to take his mind off his duty. All because she’d had the courage to admit her deadly secret to him.
Katarina Kerensky was the bravest person he knew.
He tried to refocus his thoughts, concentrating his efforts on what must be done to protect her. The first was to complete their mission on his own. Tonight.
The rest they would decide later.
“Once I drop you off at your house, I will return as quickly as possible.” He kept his voice just above a whisper. He didn’t want to frighten her, but if she had a Jewish relative—no matter how distant—she was in real danger.
And so was her mother, which added layers of unpleasant dimensions to an already precarious situation. At least the silent warnings and contradictions he’d seen in Elena Kerensky’s eyes made better sense now.
“Perhaps we should be on our way.” She pivoted in the direction of his hotel room.
He saw her hesitate, then visibly take hold of herself. She regretted her confession.
He would not allow her to buckle under fear now.
“No, Katarina, don’t let doubt into your heart.” He drew up be
hind her. “You’ve trusted me this far, trust me a little while longer.”
She turned to face him. “Do you really think this can end well?” A silent plea shimmered in her eyes.
The Lord’s words washed over him again. Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you. The promise came stronger this time, clearer. As did the sense of peace Jack had thought no longer existed for him.
God had never left him. Jack had been the one to turn away. He’d convinced himself he was alone as Friedrich Reiter. But perhaps atonement began with the simple acknowledgment of the Lord’s hand in his life, even in this deadly time of war.
Especially in this deadly time of war.
“Maybe we both need a little more faith,” he said aloud.
“Faith?” She angled her head in a show of genuine confusion at his choice of words. “Faith in what? Each other?”
“No. That will take time,” he admitted. “What I meant,” he said as he took a deep breath, “was faith in God.”
He saw the light of optimism in her eyes, right before her face crumbled into a look of stark agony. “God turned His back on me a long time ago.”
How many times had Jack thought that same thing in the last two years of his life? Too many times to count. An intense wave of sadness passed through him, sadness for her, for him, for them both. “I understand how you feel, Katarina.” He pressed his palm against her cheek again. “More than you know.”
Her expression wavered, softened, then firmly closed, as his own would have done had someone said those same words to him before this afternoon. He dropped his hand to his side. “Now is not the time for this discussion.”
“No. In that we agree.”
Putting his mind back on the mission, he led her into the hotel room then directed her to the open suitcase positioned on the table beside the radio. Opening a hidden panel, he pointed to the cabinet key he’d had made from the wax impression.
She lifted her eyes to his, a question lit in their depths.
“In case something happens to me tonight.” He left the rest unspoken.
The quick flash of terror in her eyes—terror for him—caught him by surprise and another layer of his hard exterior melted away.
Katarina Kerensky had done what no other woman had done before. She’d nudged her way into his heart with her convictions and sacrifices and genuine concern for his safety.
Would this brave woman be his salvation, or his ultimate doom?
Chapter Sixteen
21 November 1939, Sengwarden, Wilhelmshaven,
1900 Hours
The promise of a long, hard winter roared into the harbor on a fierce wind off the North Sea. Grim faced and resolute, Admiral Karl Doenitz studied the snow whipping past his office window. The blinding winter wonderland only added depth to his growing headache.
Turning away from the view, Doenitz settled a scowl on the young sailor standing at attention on the other side of his desk. Cold fury tried to work free, but he vowed to listen to the boy’s excuses before determining his ultimate fate in the Kriegsmarine.
Clasping his hands behind his back, Doenitz got straight to the point. “I understand, Fähnrich Heintzman, that you had an unusual meeting last evening.” He snapped out the statement with a flick of steel in his voice.
Staring straight ahead, Heintzman’s face remained blank. But Doenitz saw behind the mask. Just past the layer of shock stood fear, surprise and guilt. It was the guilt that interested Doenitz most. “Well?”
“I… Yes, sir, it was quite unusual.”
Doenitz picked up Heintzman’s report off his desk. He’d already interviewed five of the six guards on duty last evening. Heintzman was the last. “And yet I see you failed to include any mention of the incident in your report.”
A muscle in the boy’s cheek jerked. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, sir.”
“You didn’t think?” In a fit of uncharacteristic rage, Doenitz slammed down the paper on the desk. “It is not your place to think, Fähnrich, but to follow procedure.”
“I…” Heintzman wisely trailed off and waited for Doenitz to continue.
“When a sailor is given an order, it doesn’t matter whether he thinks the order serves any purpose.” Outrage made Doenitz’s voice low and deadly. “He obeys without question.”
“I regret not serving my Fatherland to my utmost ability.”
Under normal circumstances, Karl Doenitz considered himself a fair man. Although these were anything but normal circumstances, he hesitated from instituting rough justice just yet. “Perhaps it is not too late to save what is left of your career, Obermaat.”
Heintzman choked down a loud gulp. “Obermaat?”
“The demotion is the least of your worries. Know that I will issue formal charges if you refuse to cooperate completely from this moment forward.”
Heintzman opened his mouth, closed it and then nodded.
Doenitz picked up the report again, skimmed it quickly. Normally, he hated to repeat himself but as he reviewed the incomplete notations, renewed anger clutched around his heart, and he slammed the paper onto the desk a second time. “I want to know the name of this actress, the one you bragged about meeting to your fellow guards but failed to mention in your report.”
It was training, or perhaps self-preservation, that had the sailor answering without hesitation. “Katarina Kerensky.”
As he let the significance of the boy’s revelation sink in, Doenitz came around his desk. “The Katarina Kerensky?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She is one of the most well-known names in Germany, perhaps in the world. Are you telling me that she came into this obscure fishing village, yet you failed to report the incident?”
“She promised me tickets to her play and a trip backstage if I kept our meeting quiet.” His voice shook, as though he’d only just realized how damning his explanation sounded.
“She asked you to keep the incident to yourself?”
“She wasn’t alone. She was with a man, they were…” The boy’s gaze darted around the room, dropped to the floor, lifted again. “They didn’t want stares.”
“Katarina Kerensky came here, to Wilhelmshaven of all places, for a tryst?”
“That was my understanding.”
It was plausible, Doenitz admitted to himself. A famous woman would certainly want anonymity if she were involved in something so inappropriate. In such a case, leaving the city made perfect sense. Except, of course, that the woman’s secret jaunt to Wilhelmshaven was on the exact night as the break-in into the commanding officer’s private quarters.
Doenitz thought of the tiny window in his bedroom. The dimensions were far too small for a man to fit through, but perfect for a woman. She would have needed help getting in, however, just as she had needed help—with the use of his chair—to get back out. Hence, the addition of a lover. “You said she was with a man. What was this man’s name?”
Heintzman divided a cautious look between Doenitz and the floor, eventually settling on the floor. “I didn’t get his name.”
“You didn’t get it, or he didn’t offer it?”
“Both. Neither. I mean—”
“I know what you mean.” Doenitz drew himself up. “What did this man look like?”
Heintzman took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “Nordic. Tall, dark blond hair, large frame. Definitely an officer, he had that kind of command about him. But he wasn’t in uniform.”
“What was he wearing?”
“I don’t remember.” The seaman’s eyebrows slammed together. “It was dark. He blended with the night.”
“And he didn’t offer his name, or insist you make a report?”
“No, sir. He looked, well, uh, that is, he kissed Fräulein Kerensky like a man in love.”
“You saw the two kiss?”
Heintzman gave a clipped affirmative and added, “Under a streetlight.”
“They kissed out in the open. But earlier you said they came to Wilhel
mshaven to avoid stares.”
“Yes, sir, that’s what they told me. Which was why they were dressed in black, perhaps?”
“All black? Both of them?”
“Yes. I remember now. I thought it odd at first, until they explained their need for secrecy. Oh, and the fräulein was wearing pants.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “Not an evening dress?”
“No, sir.”
Another discrepancy. Another step closer to uncovering the identity of the intruder. Every instinct told Doenitz he had found his man. Or rather, woman.
But why would Katarina Kerensky break into his private quarters? And who was the man with her? What, exactly, had they been after? Doenitz knew if he found the answer to one question, he would find the answer to the rest.
Ignoring Heintzman for a moment, he advanced to the other end of his desk and rummaged through a stack of personal correspondence. Pulling out a crisp white square of heavy parchment, he studied the invitation’s gold-embossed lettering. Elena Kerensky’s annual ball hadn’t been an event he’d relished attending. Until now.
Surely the woman’s daughter, the famous princess turned stage actress, would be in attendance with all the other important men and women of the Third Reich.
That was it, of course. Instead of waiting for the in truder to come to him a second time, Doenitz would approach him, or rather her, first.
Now that he knew who he was looking for, and where he could find her, time was on his side. He would go to the ball as planned. He would watch. He would assess.
With one small mistake on her part, and cold, clear thinking on his part, the woman would be his in no time.
He simply needed to proceed with patience.
Fortunately, Admiral Karl Doenitz was a very patient man.
By the time Jack arrived at Kiel, the cold mist in the air had become a milky-white shroud. The fog all but strangled the meager light from the waxing moon. Testing the depth of visibility, Jack thrust out his hand in front of him. The lower half of his arm disappeared into the thick soup.
He would have to rely on his memory of the shipyard’s position and layout from the blueprints he’d studied earlier that morning in Himmler’s car.