“Shut up,” Karl snapped. He hadn't mourned his wife after her death. Himmler had arranged the match, pointing out that a senior SS official could not be unmarried. It hadn't been a successful marriage. There hadn’t even been children. “You have no children.”
Gudrun ignored him. “You have no conception of war,” she said. “To you, soldiers are nothing more than numbers. You don’t understand them, any more than you understand me, because you have never lived their life. And your life has never been in any real danger.”
“You didn't live their life either,” Karl said.
“No,” Gudrun agreed. “But I was engaged to one. And I would have married him, if he’d returned alive and well. I know the cost of war, Mein Fuhrer. You don’t. And now your grip on power is weakening because you’ve pushed your men too far ...”
Karl clenched his fists. If she’d been a man - and if they’d been in public - he would have had to punch her for her words. There would have been no way to avoid it. She’d practically called him a coward! Her words were fighting words. And yet, they weren't in public ...
He cocked his head. “A woman can say what she likes and escape punishment,” he said, lightly. “Aren't you lucky?”
Gudrun shrugged, as if she were bored. “My father never knew that,” she said. “He was always strict with me.”
“A shame he wasn't stricter,” Karl said. “He might have saved you from a gruesome fate.”
He cleared his throat. “Enjoy the rest of your time in the cell,” he added. “You’ll be heading east in four days.”
Gudrun looked pale. “Is that all you came to tell me?”
“I suggest you learn to behave yourself,” Karl added. “Or you’ll find the east absolute hell.”
“Really,” Gudrun said. “And to think that you are already in hell.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Germanica, Germany East
12 November 1985
Katherine had never contemplated treason before.
It just wasn't something she’d ever done. She’d never had any reason to contemplate treason against the Reich. The Reich had been good to her. Certainly, it had pushed her hard to see if she really wanted to serve in the military - rather than one of the handful of roles open to women who didn't want to be solely mothers, daughters and wives - but it had accepted her, once she had proved herself. She’d thought little of the protests, when they’d sprung up for the first time; she’d thought even less of the Provisional Government, when it had taken control of Berlin.
And yet, the Reich was coming apart at the seams.
She listened to the bodyguards and knew, without a doubt, that the end was approaching rapidly. Mutiny in the Waffen-SS was unknown. It almost certainly spelt the end of the Reich, at least in the east. The trust and loyalty that bound Germany East together had broken, raising the spectre of a second civil war while the bandits and insurgents started to reclaim the land they’d lost. And that meant ... and that meant what?
The end, she thought, morbidly.
She had no illusions about the world, none of the blinders that westerners like Gudrun wore before they came face to face with reality. Holliston, whatever his flaws, had been correct when he’d called the world red in tooth and claw. The Third Reich had been established by force, was maintained by force and would collapse when the force holding it together could no longer do the job. And that force had now broken.
Part of her wanted to hate Gudrun for her role in bringing down the Reich. But the rest of her had to admit that the flaws had always been there, the fault lines just waiting for someone to exploit them. Gudrun might have been the leader, the first person to stand up and question the Reich ... but if it hadn't been her, it would have been someone else. Gudrun, for all of her intelligence and bravery, wouldn't have managed to do more than get herself arrested if others hadn't supported her.
She watched, warily, as Karl Holliston confronted Gudrun. Gudrun was putting on a good show, but it was easy to tell that she was frightened. Katherine didn't blame her. The Fuhrer’s instability had only grown stronger since their last face-to-face meeting. It would be easy, chillingly easy, for him to order her tortured or raped or murdered. Or to do it himself ... and if he did, Katherine would be unable to save her. Katherine knew she was good, but she wasn't good enough to take down five bodyguards and kill the Fuhrer. Even Otto Skorzeny would have found it a challenge.
I need to get her out of here, she thought, grimly. But how?
She was fairly sure she could get Gudrun out of the cell. Now the Fuhrer had pronounced her fate, Gudrun was under far less supervision. Katherine had even been able to get her some exercise, although the Fuhrer’s benevolence hadn't reached far enough to give her some clothes. And she could see his point. A naked girl running through the corridors would be instantly noticeable. But realistically, Gudrun couldn't hope to break out of her cell and escape without help. Even Skorzeny would have found that impossible.
Katherine sighed as she watched the Fuhrer turn and storm out of the cell. His bodyguards fanned out around him, again, as he headed down the corridor towards the lift. He was definitely insecure, Katherine noted. The man who had once strode around the Reichstag as if he were a common secretary was now escorted by armed guards at all times. She couldn’t help wondering if they followed him into the toilet.
She smirked at the thought, then returned to her contemplations. Getting out of the bunker was tricky, but doable; getting out of the city itself would be a great deal harder. She thought, briefly, about finding an apartment and just staying there, but she knew it wouldn't last. There were too many watching eyes in Germanica, too many people who would be happy to report anything ... the moment the alarm was sounded, people would be on the alert for them. No, she had to get Gudrun out of the city ...
... And she had to do it before the alarm was raised.
She checked the monitors - Gudrun was seated on the bed, crying silently - then turned back to her files. Gudrun didn't seem to have any family within the city, no relatives at all. There was certainly no one who could be counted upon to help, not when it ran the risk of crossing the Fuhrer himself. Katherine’s own family were hundreds of miles away ... and, in all honesty, she knew they probably wouldn't help either. They hadn't been very supportive of her dreams, back when she’d been a child.
Shaking her head, she started to dig into Horst Albrecht’s file for the sixth time. She'd read it very carefully, back when she’d taken the risk of contacting him after the Reich Council had fallen; she honestly hadn't seen any reason why he might have turned on the Reich. But after meeting Gudrun she’d known the answer. Horst Albrecht’s father had died on active service, under mysterious circumstances. He might have wondered if his father’s death - and the bland notification they’d received - had come after he’d been crippled, just like Gudrun’s boyfriend. And now they were married ...
Katherine pursed her lips in irritation. Horst Albrecht had two sisters, both of whom lived in Germanica West ... there was no sign they’d been arrested, let alone purged for daring to be related to a traitor. It puzzled her more than she cared to admit. There might have been some doubt over Horst’s true role in the uprising, shortly after it had taken place, but there was no longer any doubt now. Both girls should have been arrested shortly after Katherine had made her report.
The report might be out of date, she thought. It didn't seem very likely. The Reich had a fetish for bureaucratic efficiency. If the girls had been arrested after Katherine’s return from Berlin it would have been included in the file. Or was there a reason they weren't arrested?
She worked her way through the file, growing increasingly puzzled. One of the girls was married, but her husband was a mere stormtrooper. He might be on the front lines - or dead - yet he didn't seem important enough to dissuade the SS from arresting his wife. Hell, he’d probably be arrested too. And the other sister was unmarried, which was odd for a girl of twenty-two. Was there something wrong wit
h her? Katherine wasn't married, but she was a soldier. She doubted the other girl was a soldier too ...
Her father died before he could arrange a match, she mused. But surely someone else would have stepped in ...
She worked her way through the girl’s file and struck gold. Impossible!
Katherine had been warned during her training, time and time again, that anything that looked too good to be true probably wasn't. And yet, the connection was right in front of her. Horst Albrecht’s father had been no one of any real consequence, but his maternal uncle was a Gauleiter! She supposed that explained some of the oddities in his file. His early acceptance into the training program might have had something to do with his need to appear young, but it might also be because his uncle pulled strings on his behalf ...
Bastard, she thought. She’d had to work her ass off to get into the program. Horst had had it handed to him on a silver platter. And yet, his marks had been excellent. They won’t have graduated him if they didn't think he passed.
She felt her smile widen as she worked her way through the file. Clearly, Gauleiter Forster had done a great deal more than just pull strings on Horst’s behalf. He’d somehow concealed his connection to Horst from the Fuhrer himself. And if he’d done that, he could certainly assist Katherine in getting Gudrun out of the city. Hell, with Gudrun married to Horst, he’d have an obligation to help her.
And if I do it properly, she thought, he’ll have no choice but to help me.
***
It had been nearly seven years since Horst had set foot in Germanica, back when he’d been a schoolboy visiting the giant city for a week. The immense buildings, each one designed to make him feel like a midget, had awed him, even though he and a couple of friends had managed to get into trouble by sneaking out one night to the bars. He’d even considered moving to the city, even though migration in and out of Germanica was heavily restricted. It had impressed him beyond words. Now ...
The city had changed, he noted, as they strode through the streets. Or perhaps he had changed, more than he cared to admit. The giant buildings no longer seemed so marvellous; the population scurried from place to place, their faces hidden under heavy winter coats and clothing. Dozens of stormtroopers lined the streets, their eyes flickering from place to place as if they expected to be attacked at any moment. There was almost no threat, as far as Horst knew - the Provisional Government had made the decision not to bomb Germanica even after Berlin itself had been attacked - but the guards were still on alert. They’d been asked for their papers four times already.
Thankfully, Uncle Emil was able to get us into the city, he thought. But he can't get us into the Reichstag itself.
From a distance, the Germanica Reichstag looked largely identical to the Berlin Reichstag, only larger. A towering blocky building, surrounded by Nazi flags and stone eagles ... he couldn't help thinking that there was something wrong about it, although he couldn't put his finger on it. And yet, as he walked closer, the sense of oddness only grew stronger. The guards standing by the barricades looked like mites guarding the home of a giant. Whatever the builders had done messed with his head, as if his perceptions were somehow out of alignment. It made him dizzy just thinking about it.
“Papers,” a harsh voice snapped.
Horst handed over his ID card at once. The guard examined it briefly, then glanced at Kurt’s before waving them both on. Horst had no trouble recognising a uniformed bully, the type of man who lived to make others feel small and worthless. And yet, like all such men, he was a coward at heart. He certainly didn't have the nerve to harass them after seeing where their cards had been issued. Who knew? He might have landed in real trouble.
Bastard, Horst thought, darkly. The man was clearly too much of a coward to actually head west and fight. But then, if some of the rumours spreading through the city were accurate, the entire front line was crumbling. No stomach to do anything but bully people.
He kept his face expressionless as they walked back towards his uncle’s residence. A trio of vans had parked outside a housing block, a dozen stormtroopers watching as an entire family was marched out of the building and into the vans. It was impossible to tell what they’d done, but Horst could guess. Rumour-mongering, according to the wireless, was now a capital offense. Someone had said something indiscreet ...
He shuddered as he saw four children, the oldest probably no older than ten. Perhaps the SS would be merciful and send them to a farm in the east as a group ... no, mercy was one thing the SS never showed. The entire family would be turned into a gruesome example of what happened to people who spread rumours. They’d be split up, the two boys sent to orphanages and boarding schools while the girls were sent to the farms. Their names would be changed, they’d be beaten every time they talked about their families ...
... And they’d never see each other again.
There's nothing we can do, he thought, sourly. Not yet.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, passing two Volkssturm guards as they walked through the guards and into the residence. A Gauleiter was entitled to a mansion in Germanica, although Horst had a nasty feeling it wasn't quite as secure as his uncle might have hoped. The SS would certainly have tried to get a spy into his household staff or suborn one of his trusted subordinates ...
And if he’s wrong about who can be trusted, Horst thought morbidly, we’ll all wind up hanging from meathooks under the Reichstag.
“Ah, Horst,” Forster said. His uncle sounded remarkably cheerful for someone who was plotting a revolution. “We have a rather unusual visitor.”
He nodded towards the lounge. Horst exchanged glances with Kurt, then stepped into the room. A young man was seated on the sofa ... no, a young woman. Horst straightened, one hand dropping to the pistol at his belt, as he recognised her. And judging by the way her eyes went wide, she recognised him.
“You ...”
Horst drew his pistol, ignoring his uncle’s warning. “You took her!”
Katherine held up her hands. “Yes, I did,” she said, bluntly. “And I was wrong.”
“Katherine has a proposition for us,” his uncle said. “She’ll be in the bunker when the balloon goes up.”
Horst glanced at him, sharply. “She's a loyalist ...”
“I am loyal to the Reich,” Katherine said, tartly. “And the Reich cannot survive with Holliston at the helm.”
“Oh,” Horst said.
He carefully returned his pistol to the holster, unsure if he should laugh or cry. Katherine had been in command of the SS squad in Berlin. A position like that wasn't handed out like beer at Oktoberfest. And a woman ... she wouldn't have reached such a position without being better than the men - and probably more fanatical too.
And Uncle Emil’s recruited her, he thought, numbly. Is he out of his mind?
It wasn't a pleasant thought. There were plenty of people who’d switched sides - Uncle Emil, Volker Schulze, Hans Krueger ... hell, Horst himself. But Katherine ... could she be trusted? How had she even known to find them?
“Your wife is still alive,” Katherine said. “The Fuhrer plans to send her east in a few days.”
Horst swallowed, hard. East ... even if they won the war, Gudrun would never be the same again. A dozen questions came to his lips, but he wasn't sure he wanted the answers. She ...
He took a breath. “How is she?”
“Bearing up very well,” Katherine said. “I believe the Fuhrer regrets some of his early decisions concerning her. She is alive and well, if a little bored.”
Horst wasn't sure he believed her. He knew too much about the SS. Gudrun was a special prisoner, but it was unlikely they’d refrain from torturing her. And yet ...
“You knew to come here,” he said, flatly. “How?”
“I worked my way through the records, looking for someone who might be willing to help,” Katherine said, slowly. “I uncovered the connection between you and your uncle” - she nodded to Forster - “and decided he might be able t
o help me smuggle Gudrun out of the city.”
Horst shook his head slowly. “And you came here?”
Katherine, for the first time, showed a hint of annoyance. “I made sure to have an excuse,” she said, bluntly. “No one will question my visit.”
“If you’re in touch with Gudrun,” Kurt said suddenly, “you can ask her a question from us, can't you?”
“Perhaps,” Katherine said. “But I have to be very careful when I speak to her.”
Oddly, Horst found that a little reassuring. He knew how ‘special’ prisoners were treated, even the ones who had to be treated gently. Gudrun would be under constant observation, her every last word and action scrutinised for hidden meaning. But Katherine would have no trouble speaking to her if her superiors knew she was in contact with the underground ...
Ragnarok (Twilight of the Gods Book 3) Page 33