by Renee Ryan
Schmidt merely inclined his head, waiting patiently for Doenitz to continue. This was the advantage of working with seasoned sailors, men who had experienced the humiliation of defeat. Their devotion to the Third Reich was a given.
“As with your other missions, do not pick up any survivors along the way.”
Schmidt gave a quick nod. “I will strive only to take care of my own boat and crew.”
“That is all I expect.” Hard determination edged his voice up an octave. “Any events during your patrol which are in direct violation of the international agreement should not be entered in your war log.”
Schmidt’s blue eyes turned cold and impassive. “I will report those to you personally.”
“Very good. Now, what is U-116’s status?”
“Everything is on schedule. She will be outfitted and ready to sail on the twenty-fourth as planned.”
Doenitz clasped the other man’s shoulder in a brief show of confidence. “I realize laying mines is not a popular task, my friend. Since the weapon does not cause immediate damage to the enemy, you and your crew may never see the fruits of your labor.”
Schmidt threw his shoulders back, exuding an unshakable iron bearing. “I only wish to do my part for Germany, Herr Admiral.”
Satisfied at last, Doenitz returned to the cabinet that held the rest of his important blueprints and documents. Before shifting them to their new locations, there was one final matter to discuss with Schmidt.
“Your character and your temperament make you a valuable officer, Hermann,” he began carefully. “I am honored to have you among my most trusted men.”
“It is an honor to serve under you, sir.”
“I understand the sacrifice I am asking of you. But you must dedicate yourself completely to the Fatherland.”
Schmidt nodded in understanding. “My personal life will not interfere with my duties.”
Ah, the perfect opening. “I trust Elena Kerensky will not be a distraction.”
“No, sir.” Schmidt looked at him directly, his eyes unblinking. “She understands my duty is to Germany first.”
“Good. Good.” Deciding to keep his suspicions about the daughter to himself, at least until he had further evidence to support his theory, Doenitz went fishing instead. “What about her famous daughter? What do you know of her?”
Schmidt’s lip curled in disgust. “She is a silly, spoiled girl with very little on her mind.”
Perhaps. Perhaps not. Doenitz had his doubts.
“Yet she is at the height of her profession,” he pointed out. Reason enough to take her seriously.
“Her beauty has gotten her far,” Schmidt conceded. “But like most women of her type, she is easy prey for unscrupulous men. SS men, especially.” His ruthless tone said how he felt about the company Katarina Kerensky kept. “She is not overly discreet.”
“Is there an SS man in particular that’s been sniffing around the actress lately?” Doenitz asked. One who had made the journey to Wilhelmshaven with her recently?
Schmidt’s lip curled. “This week or last?”
So Katarina Kerensky ran through men, not unusual considering her profession. “You say she’s silly and likes dangerous men, is that all you know about her?” Doenitz asked.
“That’s all there is to know. Either she is exactly as she seems or she is a brilliant actress.” Schmidt released a snort. “You may decide for yourself, of course, when you meet her tonight. But in my opinion, no one is that good at pretending.”
Doenitz would indeed judge for himself. In the meantime, he had other documents to move. “Thank you, Kapitän. That is all for now.”
Schmidt tossed out his own arm in salute. “Heil Hitler.”
Doenitz returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm. “Heil Hitler.”
As Schmidt left the room at a stiff, clipped pace, Doenitz allowed a slow, cold smile to touch his lips. After tonight he would have his answers about the famous actress. He would find out who she worked for and then he would uncover her reasons for breaking into his private chambers, assuming she was indeed the culprit.
Ah, yes. The trip to Hamburg this evening, the one he’d dreaded a week ago, could very well prove to be an enlightening experience after all.
Rissen, West Hamburg, 0800 hours
In sharp contrast to Katia’s mood, the day dawned crisp and bright. She would have much preferred a dark and rainy morning for answering her mother’s summons.
A reasonable person would be snuggled in her bed at this hour, or at the very least checking on her wounded partner. Unfortunately, family obligation had been bred into Katia from birth. And as much as she wanted to worry over Friedrich Reiter’s meeting with Heinrich Himmler, or wonder how the British spy’s wound was healing, she found herself putting off her trip to the Vier Jahreszeiten hotel and stepping into the quiet, tasteful foyer of her mother’s home instead.
Looking around her, Katia sighed. The decor was as stylishly equipped as its owner. Lovely and aloof, the pearl-gray marble floor, cream-colored walls and stern-looking antique table suited Princess Elena Dietrich Patrova Kerensky to perfection.
Katia’s mother had been given the villa on the Elbe River two years ago, shortly after she’d become a favorite of Adolf Hitler. More showcase than home, the house had everything a Russian princess in exile could want, even if that princess was of German descent with a secret Jewish grandparent in her lineage.
Katia’s skin iced over as she stepped farther into the house. Although she had no proof, she imagined this sprawling home had once belonged to a Jewish family taken by the Nazis.
The thought made her sick, made her seem more like an intruder than usual.
How could her mother live with herself? Where was her conscience? Her disgust? Her shame?
Elena’s solid position in German society had given her back the life that had been ripped from her during the dark days of the Revolution. She lived in a fairy-tale world again, one similar to that of the Tsars.
Was Elena Kerensky that shallow? Did she not understand the cost others had paid for the opulence she enjoyed now? The same cost she herself would pay if Hermann Schmidt discovered her secret? She had once claimed to be a devout Christian. Her actions said otherwise. Had Elena joined the new German religion, the Gottglaubig? Had she become one of the blind millions who worshipped the romantic notions of a pagan past?
Lord, if that’s true, what am I to do? How am I to proceed?
Katia’s breath turned cold in her body. A scream clawed at the inside of her throat, but she kept her expression bland as she made her way to the front parlor. She could not help but think that her heels clicking against the marble sounded like nails to coffins.
Strict control prevented Katia from reaching up and smoothing the wind-tangled hair off her face. She was an adult now, not some naughty child who deserved scolding. Shoulders back, chin high, she took note of the countless flowers that spilled out of pots and vases on every available tabletop. The colorful blooms presented an impression that the war had not yet touched this part of the world.
How long would Elena Kerensky lie to herself?
Rounding the corner, Katia noted a fire had been laid in the parlor, but was not yet lit. The illusion of warmth came from several lamps shooting beacons of golden light throughout the pristine room. No doubt, the soft ambience was designed to create a soothing, welcoming atmosphere.
Katia had never felt so alone, so empty. So terrified. She didn’t think she could continue playing the role of the dutiful daughter much longer. The lie was taking its toll.
Lord, I…I…I pray for courage. As prayers went it was a pitiful attempt. Well, she was feeling rather pitiful at the moment, especially as she watched her perfect, serene mother rise from her chair.
Elena stretched out her hand to beckon Katia forward. Dressed in a soft tan dress with brown trim, her hair in its trademark upsweep, Elena looked as elegant as always.
“Darling,” she greeted. “You are right o
n time.” Her tone was pleasant enough, but her eyes remained distant, guarded even, as they had been the day before.
“I am always on time, Mother.”
“So you are.”
Katia didn’t like how Elena watched her, with her pale eyes looking as though she could see straight inside her mind. Katia had to swallow back a wave of nervousness. Why did she always feel inadequate in the presence of the woman who had given birth to her?
Shaken more than she thought possible, Katia ignored the familiar clutching of her stomach and moved forward to kiss her mother’s cheek. “You look well.”
“I am well, quite well. And how are you, my dear?”
“The same as always.” Petrified. If Elena Kerensky could ignore what was happening around her, then so could every other decent citizen of the Volk.
“Come, Katia, sit. Have some tea.” There was no warmth in the invitation.
Unsure what to make of her mother’s mood, Katia did as commanded. “As I said on the telephone, I cannot stay long.”
“Nonsense.” Elena waved off the objection. “Your first obligation is to your family.”
Katia gave in, hoping to end this command performance more quickly with compliance. She sat down in a stiff-back chair, but she couldn’t stop her hand from fluttering absently over her hair.
Elena’s gaze followed the gesture. Pursing her lips in disapproval, she poured tea into a china cup. “You look tired, darling.”
Katia curled her toes inside her shoes and clamped her hands together in her lap. “I’ve had several long nights at the theater.”
Elena treated Katia to one of her long silences. Only then did she remember the theater had been dark last night and she’d begged off dinner with complaints of a headache. Would Elena point out the obvious inconsistency in Katia’s excuse?
This is what comes of living a life of lies.
Katia held perfectly still and waited. A part of her noticed the servants bustling in and out of the room, making preparations for the party later that evening. The other part of her held her breath in trepidation.
“Yes, darling, I’m sure that must be the reason.” Elena placed a cup on a saucer and handed both to Katia. “I don’t know why you bother with that ridiculous endeavor. You should be focusing on marriage. You aren’t getting any younger.”
“I am only twenty-six.”
“Long past the age I was when I married your father.” A sadness crept into Elena’s eyes, but she quickly wiped away the emotion with a determined blink.
Katia fought her own wave of melancholy. She’d thought of her father more in the last two days than she had in the last eighteen years.
“Who would I marry, Mother? Someone like Hermann?” She kept her voice cool and distant, afraid if she allowed her emotions to surface there would be no way to stop them from overflowing into a tangle of words that she could never take back.
Elena’s gaze narrowed, but there was no real hardness in her eyes, only a look that Katia couldn’t quite decipher. Concern maybe? “You cannot deny that my marrying Hermann will have its advantages,” she said at last.
Hands shaking, Katia set her cup and saucer aside. She couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. She couldn’t. “Would your grandfather agree?”
Calmly, without an ounce of self-consciousness, Elena plucked a linen napkin from the tea service and dabbed at her lips. “Do not be so quick to judge, Katarina. Grandpapa would want me safe. Marriage to Hermann will provide a certain level of protection I cannot achieve otherwise.”
Then it was as Katia had suspected. Her mother was hiding in plain sight. With her royal title, Aryan good looks and marriage to a high-ranking Nazi, no one would think to look into Elena Kerensky’s past. But what if they did? What if hatred of the Jews increased? What if the Nazi paranoia grew worse?
By marrying Hermann Schmidt, Elena was taking a terrible risk.
A servant dressed in the required uniform of stark black and white swept through the room, moving close to the two of them. Katia waited until she bustled out again.
“Leaving Germany would provide far better protection,” she murmured, holding her mother’s gaze with unwavering resolve.
Elena blinked. Then blinked again.
Still, Katia held her stare.
For the first time in years, Elena broke their eye contact first.
Katia reached out and squeezed her mother’s hand. “It’s not impossible.”
Elena tugged free. “Don’t say such a thing. Don’t even think it. The Führer cannot be stopped. Soon, not only Europe but all the world will become a part of the new Germany.”
The new Germany? Elena Kerensky’s choice of words confounded Katia, especially when there was an unmistakable warning in her eyes. Clearly her mother saw the danger of staying in Germany. Yet she chose to remain.
Why? Did she really believe there was so little hope left? That Hitler could not be stopped, and would take over the entire world?
Katia would never lose that much faith in good overcoming evil. She must trust in the Lord, even when she couldn’t hear His voice. No, especially then. Her father’s death had been a horrible thing, but he’d died free in his belief. His faith in God had never wavered, not even in the end. God had not abandoned her father, nor had the Lord abandoned her as she’d once thought.
She had been the one to turn away.
Forgive me, Lord.
As much as she wanted to rejoice in her resurrected faith, she had to finish what she’d started here. Perhaps she still could convince her mother to leave Germany. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t try. Driven by a newfound desperation, she went to her mother and placed her mouth next to her ear.
“I can get us out.” The words fell from her lips almost without a sound.
“No.” Elena drew away, nearly shoving Katia back into her chair.
“Oh, but I could.”
Horror filled her mother’s eyes and she looked desperately around her, as though there were as many invisible people as the visible servants listening to their conversation. “You speak too boldly.”
Her mother was right, of course. The secret police had ways of knowing things they had no business knowing. It would be foolish to let her guard down, even in her own mother’s house—especially in her mother’s house.
Realizing no good would come from continuing the conversation with so many servants meandering about, Katia let the matter drop. For now. “I’m sorry, Mother, I misspoke.”
“You are tired, darling.” Elena placed her hand over Katia’s and squeezed gently. “That is all.”
“Yes, that must be it.”
Elena nodded. “You should consider marriage,” she said again, more vehemently this time. “You could start a family and stop what you are doing, before it is too late.”
What an odd choice of words. Either her mother was simply being a concerned mother or Elena Kerensky knew more than she should.
Which was impossible, of course. How could Elena know of Katia’s secret life?
“You want me to leave the stage,” she asked for clarification. “Is that what this sudden push for marriage is about?”
“Yes.” Elena gave a short shake of her head. “I wish for you to quit the stage as well as your other, shall we call them, pursuits?”
Her other pursuits?
Fear congealed in Katia’s throat. She was no longer certain of her mother’s meaning. She was no longer certain of herself. “Do you…do you know that I…”
She trailed off and took a moment to think.
Her mother couldn’t possibly know about her dealings with the British. Katia had been careful. She’d been more than careful. And yet the truth was blazing in her mother’s eyes, in the silent accusation hanging heavy in the air between them.
“Mother, do you know that I play unusual…roles, on and off the stage?” Katia kept her words vague, in case a nosy servant thought to listen to their conversation.
“Yes, Katarina.” H
er mother’s confirmation snaked between them like the hissing vapor from a steam engine. “I know all about the dangerous roles you play,” she spoke, lowering her voice to less than a whisper, “for the enemy.”
“I…I…I…” She had no words.
Elena dabbed again at her lips with her napkin. “And now that I know, I demand you stop at once.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The cloud of panic that had been hovering over Katia’s head for the last two days crashed over her with a force that nearly threw her from her chair.
“But how?” she gasped. “Mother, how do you know?”
When Elena simply stared her, her expression completely unreadable, Katia forgot to play a role. She forgot to breathe. She was a child again, vulnerable and scared and stripped of all her protective barriers. “Mother?”
Elena’s expression never changed, but deep lines of worry cradled her mouth. She cut a quick glance at the servant dusting the mantel and then rose abruptly. “Come, darling, I want to show you the decorations I’ve added to the backyard for this evening’s festivities.”
Glad to perform such a simple act, Katia followed her mother onto the outdoor deck. She had no idea what to say or do next. It was already too late to be wary. Her mother knew she was a mole for the British. Silence was her only defense now.
Once outside, Elena pulled Katia close, easing her into the kind of motherly hug she hadn’t given her daughter since she was a child.
Katia resisted the urge to cling.
“I have suspected for some time,” Elena breathed in her ear. Drawing slowly away, she commanded Katia’s stare. “But you confirmed my suspicions yesterday.”
Swamped with a fear she’d never known before, not even when the Communists had come for her father, Katia stuttered. “I…I…I did?”
Had she said or done something wrong during lunch, something telling? In so doing had she blown Jack’s cover as well as her own?
“It was the roses,” Elena whispered.