Secret Allies

by Max Hudson

  Martin bowed his head and shook it, his bag held loosely at his side. “Unfortunate, I know. But I’ve come to see the Armenian dream with my love, and I won’t let any war scare me away.”

  The security officer glared. “You came alone.”

  “My love lives here, in this very city. We’ve been writing letters for months, but now, I must marry her and make her mine.”

  “Why didn’t she go to Sweden?” The officer wiggled the passport.

  “She didn’t want to leave her family.”

  “Yet you wanted to leave yours?”

  “She’s worth it.”

  “Right.” He motioned to the side with Martin’s passport. “I must ask that you stand aside and wait to be questioned further.”

  His stomach dropped, but he portrayed innocent confusion on his face. “If I must, but may I call my love first?”

  “No.”

  “Then perhaps you could? Her name is Auta Achter.” He gave her address.

  The officer’s eyes widened. “Achter? As in…General Achter’s daughter?”

  Martina beamed. “You’ve heard of her? A small world this is!” Of course he had heard of her; in Steinrole, SS General Achter and his family were well-known after the many successful battles he had led as a Captain—after the stories of his many rapid promotions and his boisterous personality always filled the local papers. “So, you’ll be able to call her then and let her know I’ll be late?”

  The officer closed the passport and handed it back to Martin. “No longer necessary. I was being overly cautious. Go. Marry Miss Achter. You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Ek.”

  Martin fought against the urge to smirk. “I know.”

  ***

  On the third story of the apartment building, Martin knocked on his contact’s door.

  Auta Achter answered it immediately. She hesitated a few seconds too long, but other than that flaw, her performance appeared genuine—a tight hug, teary eyes, loving murmurs—and then she hustled him inside and closed the door behind him.

  “No problems?” she asked, her demeanor relaxing.

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He walked past the kitchen and down the hall. “Which room can I set up everything in?”

  She hurried after him and guided him through a doorway, center-right in the hallway. It was a small room, no windows, and it was perfect. Martin assessed it briefly before lowering to his knees and opening his bag of surveillance equipment—and his gun. He took the weapon out and set it aside on the floor.

  Auta lingered in the doorway as he got to work setting up the surveillance room. Occasionally, she would inform him of things he had planned to ask about later. “The landlord has accepted Mr. Hubar’s offer for the downstairs room, and he was very happy with the large deposit.”

  “Good,” Martin said absently. “No security down there?”

  “Only on the first floor. You should be able to break in, set up your fancy tools, and then come back up without any problems.”

  “Good.”

  She mentioned her father’s ignorance of her betrayal, something about her mother’s nosiness which wasn’t a threat—

  “But if she finds out that I have a man in my life,” Auta said, tapping her fingers together, “she may want to visit and talk about grandchildren and such.”

  “We just won’t let her into this room. The rest of the apartment will be fine.”

  “But what if she snoops? She enjoys snooping.”

  “We won’t leave her alone while she’s here.” The silence that followed contained tension, so Martin glanced up from his work and saw Auta biting her lip and wringing her wrists. He gave her a soft smile. “Auta.”

  Her attention snapped to him.

  “It will be fine. We’re doing really good work here, and I’ll make sure that we do it as safely as possible.”

  She nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

  “And if it’s any consolation, you’ve been working wonderfully for someone unfamiliar with this line of work.”

  Her frame loosened somewhat. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled. “I guess those times I spent in the theater as a girl paid off. I just hope it’ll pay off if I ever have to deal with that Emmerich person.” Her nostrils flared and she shivered. “I know he is a necessary evil, but…”

  Martin furrowed his brow. “Because he was an SS Officer? Need I remind you of your father?”

  “Yes, well, at least my father isn’t a homosexual.”

  Ah. Martin returned his attention to the work at hand, his skin crawling. Yet something akin to remorse—to guilt—rumbled within him. “Don’t let it distract you,” he said, and for a second, he swore he was speaking to himself.

  “I’ll try.” She moved into the hallway. “I can bring in some chairs in here, if you like. Maybe one of the side-tables, too?”

  “Please do.”

  She left.

  Conflict rattled within Martin’s head and heart. A necessary evil…was that what men like Emmerich were? Men like…like himself?

  He shook the thought away, as he always did. If that truly was evil, he wanted no part in it. He just wanted to keep people safe.

  Chapter Four

  Days later, Emmerich moved into the apartment below—already wiretapped by Martin. Everything was in place, Martin waited in his surveillance room and listened to Emmerich settling into his temporary home. Soon, Emmerich would head out for his parents’ home, and the mission would officially begin.

  At least, he was supposed to do that. But as the afternoon darkened into evening, Emmerich was still in his apartment—snacking on some food and gulping down beverages. Probably some kind of booze.

  Martin cracked his jaw and glared at his equipment. Then—grabbing his gun and sliding it beneath the waistband of his pants, metal pressed against his lower back and his jacket concealing the weapon—he got out of his chair and hurried out of the apartment. Auta called after him.

  Downstairs, he knocked on Emmerich’s front door and forced himself to smile.

  Emmerich took a little over a minute to answer, and when he did, he paled. “What?”

  “I thought I’d greet our new neighbor,” Martin said quietly. No one else was in the hallway, so he barged into the apartment. “Thank you for inviting me in.”

  “Uh…”

  “Oh, you’re going to see your family? Well then, I’ll let you leave. Right now.”

  Emmerich scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, well…there’s got to be another way to go through with this. My parents aren’t the only ones a part of the Nazi Party. There are other people to lie to.”

  “Your foothold is your parents.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Too bad. You agreed to do it. Starting your ‘redemption’ with your family is the easiest way to not only keep your story intact but you alive. Your parents sent you to Sweden for your safety, after all.”

  “I know what they did. Don’t have to—” He hiccupped a burp.

  Martin pressed his lips together and held back a frustrated growl. “Go. See. Them. Now. Before you jeopardize everything.”

  “Or what, huh? You’ll report me?” Emmerich scoffed. “You can whine at me all day long, but you can’t control me. I do what I think is right.” He rubbed his eyes and swayed a little, nearly tripping over his own feet.

  “Hubar—”

  “No, no, no. Don’t make me involve them.”

  “You already said—”

  “I know what I said! I changed my mind! I’m human—that happens sometimes.”

  “Don’t yell,” Martin said quietly. The walls were too thin for this kind of confrontation. He reached out to Hubar. “I know that you feel—”

  Hubar reeled back, bumping into a thin pillar in his front room. “No, you don’t. You know nothing. You can read all the files on me you want, but you don’t know me. Just stop talking.”

  Martin closed his eyes, a hint of a headache blooming within hi
s skull. He didn’t want to threaten Hubar but trying to guilt him into doing his duty wasn’t going anywhere. Hesitantly, he reached back for his gun. “Hubar, I need you to be reasonable for the sake of this mission. So much is at stake.”

  “Always talking,” Hubar said, walking into his kitchenette. He searched through the cupboards, his large hands knocking over various items. “Think you sound so smart.” He snorted.

  Martin snaked his hand beneath his jacket and grabbed his gun.

  The front door, apparently left open a crack, was shoved open. “Hey!” Auta barked. “You’re both being stupid and loud. If I have to die, then I want to die for noble reasons, not stupid ones.” She cringed as she glanced at Hubar, who looked over his shoulder at her. “Do what you have to do to save people, all right? That’s it. Anything less, and you’re just like the bastards destroying this country.” She crossed her arms and hardened her gaze.

  Hubar blinked at her, body frozen in front of the cupboards. Slowly, he turned to face her and Martin. “This is your ‘love’ then? How…lovely.”

  She sneered. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. Just do your job.” She stormed away, leaving the front door open.

  “So lovely,” Hubar said, rolling his eyes. “So bossy.” He trudged toward Martin, and then past him. “I’ll be back. Hopefully. Don’t wait around to sic your girl on me.”

  “Don’t force my hand.”

  Much to Martin’s surprise, Emmerich laughed at that.

  ***

  Martin told Auta to follow Emmerich—to act like she and Martin had just had a fight and now she just wanted to drive around the countryside for a while. Martin would’ve done it, he had more experience in tailing people, but a foreign man following around a former SS Officer nearly convicted for homosexual acts? If caught, that would be the end of this mission. Plus, it wasn’t as if Auta had to hide from Emmerich as she tailed him; she just needed to make sure he went where he said he was going.

  Martin paced around in Auta’s apartment. Every so often, he’d go into the surveillance room, grab the headphones, and listen intently to see whether Emmerich had come home. When this didn’t turn out to be the case, he’d drop the headphones and return to his pacing.

  When Auta finally returned, it was practically pitch-black outside, the soft glow of the few lamps within the apartment keeping Martin from blindness.

  It was all Martin could do not to grab her and demand answers right away.

  “He’s still at his parents’ home,” she said. “No authorities came over these past few hours, and it didn’t feel right for me to stay and watch for such a long time.”

  Martin released a breath. “Good work.” He headed back for the surveillance room. “I’ll wait for Hubar’s return. You should get some rest.” If Auta responded, he didn’t hear it as he closed the door behind him.

  ***

  Martin, grinding his teeth, was just about ready to pull out his hair when Emmerich finally entered his apartment in the middle of the night. Martin pressed the headphones closer to his ears and strained to hear every detail.

  Emmerich sighed, placed his keys somewhere, and then trudged to the bedroom. He shuffled over to the bed and rested on top of the covers. He breathed loudly, and at first, Martin assumed that Emmerich was being noisy so that Martin could hear him.

  But then Emmerich sniffled, a strangled sob following the sound.

  Martin’s heart constricted. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against one of his palms. The longer he listened, the louder Emmerich’s sniffles became.

  Stress, emotional strain—it was part of the job. Martin had cried himself to sleep several times in the past, and he understood the need for it. But hearing someone else express such sorrow…sympathetic pain pulsated within Martin’s torso.

  He took off the headphones.

  He should go to bed. Emmerich had returned, they could discuss what had occurred in the morning. But before he knew it, Martin found himself going to the other side of the small room and grabbing the phone he had installed there—the only secure line in the city. Sitting in the chair Auta had placed there, he dialed Emmerich’s number.

  “Hello,” Emmerich answered, raspily.

  “It’s Martin Ek.”

  “Ek,” Emmerich said with a blunt chortle. “It sounds like the noise you make when you smell bad cooking.”

  Martin hummed in acknowledgement, a dulled kind of relief cascading over him. “It wasn’t my choice. I don’t pick the names.”

  “Too bad. You got stuck with a terrible one.”

  “I’ll live.” He leaned back in his seat. “So, how did the family reunion go?”

  Emmerich was silent.

  Martin tensed. “Emmerich?”

  “It wasn’t pleasant,” he said. “Papa was livid, Mama was devastated, and it just…” He sniffled again. “I don’t think they believe I’m trying to—how did you put it? Redeem myself. And they kept mentioning Aldaric, and I…”

  His brother, the one who had gone missing years before. Martin remembered reading about that, and it was generally assumed that the Hubar parents had sent both of their children out of the country after Emmerich’s scandal.

  The Hubar patriarch had, on multiple occasions, publicly disowned both of his sons.

  “Your father’s prone to lying,” Martin said. “He doesn’t have to believe you want to change, he only has to convince others you do. And I imagine he will, even if it’s only to help himself in the eyes of the public.”

  “You know just what to say to cheer me up,” Emmerich said snidely. “What’s next? You tell me that my mother never loved me?”

  Martin flinched. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I meant that your parents had done everything to protect you. When your good name was in question, they didn’t turn you in or turn against you. They sent you out of the country before you could be harmed. I’ve no doubt that they’ll do whatever they can to keep you safe.”

  Emmerich hummed with thoughts. “I suppose they did. Never thought about it like that before.” Static came over the line, along with some light thuds. “When they found out about my trial…the way they looked at me. Papa didn’t even yell. He just looked beyond ill. But you really think they were trying to protect me?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, they succeeded. You’re alive, aren’t you?”

  Emmerich was quiet again for a few seconds. “What’s the next step in the plan again?”

  “You visit your old superior, Bosch, and convince him to give you a second chance. He won’t agree to it at first, but if you keep begging—keep proving yourself to him—he should waver eventually.”

  “He was a bastard.”

  “I’m sure he still is.”

  Emmerich whined, mumbling something.

  Martin rubbed his temple. “Don’t drink tomorrow, all right? You need to be sharp.”

  “Bosch is an idiot. I don’t need to be too sharp.”

  “Just—”

  “I won’t drink on the job.”

  “Or before the job.”

  “Fine, fine. Who needs my mother to love me when I have you? My bossy, American, manly mother.” Emmerich giggled, a whistling breath escaping afterward.

  Martin’s lips twitched upward. “Goodnight, Emmerich.”

  “Goodnight, Mama.”

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  “But it’s the perfect code name!”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight…Martin.” Emmerich hung up.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, Martin and Auta went outside first—getting into her car with Auta behind the wheel and Martin’s gun in the glove box. They smiled at each other a ridiculous amount in hopes that their façade of love would not only seem genuine but make people uncomfortable enough to look away.

  They waited in the car for a few minutes—Auta speaking loudly about either having a new wedding dress or wearing her grandmother’s—until Emmerich exited
the building and got into his own car.

  “Let’s see your seamstress before we speak to your mother about it,” Martin said.

  Emmerich drove away.

  “Good idea,” Auta said, starting the car.

  They followed Emmerich to the other side of the city, more cluttered with tall buildings, soldiers, and trash.

  “That’s the personnel office,” Martin said, staring straight ahead at the gleaming building a few blocks away. Several SS Officers stood in front of it, several others were marching away from it—down the adjacent street.

  As Emmerich parked in front of the office, Martin leaned closer to Auta and whispered, “Park across the street, right here.”

  She parked in front of the nameless building—an office building, perhaps, or another apartment building.

  Martin faced her but glanced behind her at the reflective surfaces of the windows. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see Emmerich, only what was behind the windows—two SS Officers speaking with a group of people around a large table; they all smiled, some laughed. “Did he go in?”

  “Yes,” she said, leaning closer to him as she watched Emmerich. “I can’t see him anymore.”

  The people within the building in front of Martin glanced in his direction. The SS Officers followed their gazes.

  Martin’s breath hitched, but his smile remained steady. He leaned even closer to Auta. “Kiss me,” he whispered. “We’re being watched.”

  She grabbed his head—his hair, really—yanked him forward and shoved her lips against his. Teeth clattered, Martin grimacing and Auta trembling.

  Poor thing must be terrified.

  He kept his eyes open, and he tried to angle himself seamlessly so that he could see around her while keeping their mouths together.

  All the people around that table had looked away. The SS Officers were no longer there though. Where—?

  A uniformed figure walked up to Auta’s side of the car and knocked on her window.