by Pirate Irwin
A month passed without any news of the Baron’s fate, despite Sebastian and Victoria demanding that von Helldorf make enquiries, but the Count was adamant that any such action would only draw attention to them and they should let Nazi justice run its course, at which both laughed in derision at the indolence of their “brave” friend of a Berlin police chief. Victoria chided him endlessly for lacking the guts to make even the slightest intervention on behalf of his friend. Sebastian was more reserved, as he knew first hand how callous the resistance members could be but with Victoria ignorant of what lay at the centre of their unwillingness to do anything, there was no use in enlightening her as she was so unpredictable that she could well hand them all over to the authorities. There was also another reason Sebastian restrained himself as he had had a meeting with both von Helldorf and von der Schulenburg, who admitted they felt guilty about the Baron, but there was another plot in the pipeline and they could not risk alerting the security forces to their links to the prisoner until the attempt had been made. “But he may be dead by the time that happens,” protested Sebastian. They both shrugged resignedly and von Helldorf poured himself another drink, his usual way of gaining time when awkward matters arose. “Sebastian, you have to see that like with your episode on the plane, nobody is indispensable. The Baron is an admirable man who tried more than anybody to avoid war through the correct means. However, it failed, and his subsequent railing against the Nazis has evidently attracted the ears of those he and we least wanted to hear it. I am sad for him as he is a wonderful friend and a proud German in the best way, who would have made a great Foreign Minister in the event of a successful putsch but I and von Helldorf and the others involved are incapable of helping him. If we succeed in taking out Hitler and his cronies then we will, of course, be well placed to help him, provided he is alive and I have to be blunt with you: from the inside information I have been able to garner from Nebe, it is unlikely that will be the case,” said von der Schulenburg softly.
“Well, why can’t Nebe do something about it? He is after all a faithful servant of the regime as far as they know,” replied Sebastian with renewed confidence, cursing himself at the same time because he had forgotten about Nebe. Von Helldorf gave out one of his sarcastic laughs, which provoked Sebastian in glaring at him in annoyance.
“Don’t be angry with me, Sebastian. It is not for me to cast doubt on people who have signed up to our honourable cause but I wouldn’t trust Nebe more than I would the fat Reichsmarschall and he for one is certainly not privy to our circle’s intentions which unfortunately the SS Generalissimo is,” von Helldorf said sardonically.
“Nebe isn’t trustworthy, is that what you mean, Count?” asked Sebastian. Von Helldorf rose from his seat in his spacious drawing room where the troika were meeting and staggered over, as he was somewhat tight, to fill his glass again with some prize Soviet vodka which he prided himself on as he had been presented with it by the former Bolshevik general Andrei Vlasov, who had switched sides and led a Cossack brigade on the Eastern Front against his former comrades. Poor bastard, thought von Helldorf as the way the war was going he wouldn’t be party to what followed its climax even if the coup came off, because Stalin would be bound to demand his being handed over as a condition of a truce, damn fine vodka, though, he reflected as he filled his glass three fingers full. Vlasov at least brought something to him whereas all this Englishman did was talk about problems and he was starting to tire of him and his sentimentality. “You see, Sebastian, just because you, Nebe and I have been to bed with Victoria does not a reliable conspirator make. God, you only have to see what he perpetrated in Poland to understand the way the man operates. He seeks to please everybody and for that reason he is totally untrustworthy and incredibly some of us have allowed him to learn things that he shouldn’t have. Indeed I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t him who delivered the Baron’s name. The trouble is some of us were so desperate to have some sort of SS presence in the conspiracy that we prostituted ourselves to secure his services and I am not sure that it was a price worth paying,” said von Helldorf bitterly. Von der Schulenburg nodded sagely at his friend’s comments and smiled, conveying what an exceptional man he was in Sebastian’s eyes despite his typically shabby dress. He had the capacity to be wise and sympathetic at the same time, which very few of his other acquaintances had shown apart from von Tresckow but the latter’s true nature had been revealed by his actions over the plane flight. Whom he could trust apart from the shambolic looking aristocrat standing in front of him was open to debate, as even von Helldorf to Sebastian at least was a questionable character despite his warmth and sympathy on the day of Eric’s funeral which could have been just to ensure he stayed on board. The only thing Sebastian took away for certain from a singularly unproductive meeting was that the Baron was a dead man because of some plot brewing that he would be appraised of once it was given the go ahead. The Baron is dead, long live the Baron, reflected Sebastian bitterly, though, the only thing of his he would have for certain was his wife Victoria and a house that held too many ghosts for his liking.
*
“Darling, I’ve booked a place for us at Steiner’s tonight. Just us, no one else,” purred Victoria, who had quickly got over the loss of her husband and rather enjoyed the fact her beau was now a highflying officer not only promoted to major but an aide to Friedrich Fromm, the commander of the Reserve Army which meant he would be permanently based in Berlin. Sebastian had been stunned by his rapid promotion and even more so when he learnt it was due to von Kluge’s recommendation, though he saw the Machiavellian hand of von Tresckow involved somewhere. He gulped somewhat at the thought of dining at Steiner’s as it was one of the more expensive establishments, but his anxiety was assuaged as Victoria said it would be on her. She looked ravishing as usual, dressed in an aquamarine outfit and bedecked in several strings of pearls, set in different colours of black, white and blue. He dressed in his uniform as he found it got you rather better service than if you drifted in in a suit or black tie, quite the reverse from before the war when only the SS found it of benefit to be kitted out in their sinister black outfits. He relayed some of what he had gleaned from his earlier meeting about the Baron but to his astonishment Victoria didn’t appear to be that interested despite him returning to the subject several times. “What does it matter, my love. The Baron was a kind-hearted man, a useless lover, but a sweet-natured person nonetheless. But he is gone from our lives and now we must make the most of what remains to us and forget about him,” she said firmly.
“So that’s it, is it, Victoria? Ten years of marriage and he is dismissed in a sentence. Well, that is charming. You have lost a stepson and a husband in a year and I don’t know which one you have mourned the least but it is a close call. Ye gods, save me from this!” yelled Sebastian. Victoria recoiled just as she had done when he had reprimanded her at Eric’s funeral and he could see tears welling up in her eyes. They had reached the coffee stage of the evening and the music from the band was starting up so his outburst had melded in to the atmosphere without drawing attention to them. That was just as well as Sebastian had espied Fromm accompanied by his plain wife and his charismatic chief of staff Count Claus Schenk von Stauffenburg, with a lady he took to be his wife, and he certainly didn’t want a domestic argument to attract their attention as the prissy Fromm did not seem the type to accept illicit affairs happening under his watch, even less so them developing into arguments that could affect one of his inferiors planning towards the defence of the Fatherland and ultimately the city.
Victoria couldn’t stop the tears pouring down her cheeks so to Sebastian’s relief she withdrew to the bathroom and allowed him some time to himself. He did despite everything have strong feelings for her, perhaps because they were so similar – self- interested, that is. However, he still couldn’t dare open up and tell her what was in store for her beloved Führer and there lay the gaping chasm between them because he couldn’t trust her sufficiently to choose between
himself and the fading regime. He was jolted out of his befuddled thoughts by the unexpected arrival of Beckmann and Henrietta. He was delighted to see them, as it had been a while since they had dined together, though his former comrade in arms was also an aide to Fromm at the Reserve Army. Two chairs were pulled up and they both sat down accepting a glass of champagne gladly. Both looked in the pink of health, even Beckmann, despite the loss of his arm, and they appeared to be bursting to tell Sebastian some news but refrained while Victoria was absent from the table. She returned looking none the worse for wear, having daubed her swollen eyes with cold water and added some more mascara round them. “So, what have you got to tell us that is so important?” Sebastian asked after filling up Victoria’s glass.
Henrietta gestured to Beckmann to reveal all but he indicated he would prefer it was she, who told them the news. “Oh all right then, Willi. You’re used to giving orders and I will gladly accept the onus of carrying this one out. We are to be married,” she gushed almost in the same breath.
“Bloody hell!” was all a stunned Sebastian could say. Victoria didn’t say a word while the intended looked a bit surprised by the reaction of Sebastian. He pulled himself together quickly and apologized, explaining he was just surprised. Beckmann and Henrietta smiled sympathetically before the latter explained how things had gone so fast. “Listen, Eric has been dead for over a year and I have found real happiness with Willi. He knows, as I told him, that at first it may have been more to do with his having fought with Eric and wanting to keep those memories alive, but it has become more than that and we really are in love,” she preened.
“Well, I’m very happy for you both,” said Sebastian approvingly and Victoria echoed his sentiment by kissing both of them. “Let’s get some more champagne to celebrate because God knows, there is little enough excuse these days to drink it!” remarked Sebastian and received a glaring look from Victoria. “Oh sorry, Victoria, I forgot you were still hanging on for that miracle of a victory,” he said sarcastically.
“Yes I will, Sebastian, but I suggest while you are ordering one bottle you make it two because I have my own miracle to reveal,” she replied.
“And what is that?” asked Sebastian.
Victoria leant back in her chair and patted her stomach. “I may be 38 but I am pregnant with your child, Sebastian.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Your whore of a wife is pregnant with a bastard, Baron,” said Heinrich Gruber gleefully. However Gruber, who had been thug senior in the raid on the von Preetz home, would have been hard pressed to detect the Baron’s reaction, as his face was now barely recognizable as it had turned purple from the severe beatings he had received since he had been taken into custody. He wasn’t surprised, though, and as he was already aware of Victoria’s several love affairs it had only been a matter of time before something like that happened. He had never been able to provide her with the corporal pleasures she so loved, as memories of his first wife still burned deep inside him and hung over him every minute of the day. Yes, he had given her a title and a certain cachet but it was only normal that she should seek her other desires elsewhere and if he was to be brutally honest, and he grinned bitterly, he was certainly in the right place for such an adjective to be used, he had married her because her overt support for the regime also gave him some form of cover. He hadn’t divulged a thing since his arrest and this piece of news was not going to make him give in.
In any case, aside from certain people within the Foreign Ministry and others like von Helldorf and von der Schulenburg plus the poor buggers out in the East, he didn’t know too many of the other players in the plot, and of late he had been progressively disengaged from the intricate planning for taking care of Hitler. He would, of course, have relished the role of post-war Foreign Minister, one post his family had never occupied either in Prussia or in unified Germany, preferring the military career instead, but now seated on a hard wooden chair with his arms bound, his legs tied together at the ankles and with barely a tooth remaining after having them removed by Gruber and his acolytes with pliers, he hardly looked the part even were the plot to succeed and he was to be miraculously released. He ached everywhere, but bizarrely his body gradually grew accustomed to the constant beatings as there was only so much that could be done to it without actually killing him and it had soon become clear that the orders were to keep him alive, which looked to suit both himself and Gruber. Gruber was a pervert and he shuddered to think what he would do to his women prisoners. Perish the thought Victoria should ever fall foul of the Nazis, because this man was capable of anything, just as he had done the first time he had been left alone with him. The man, and that was a huge compliment, had reached inside his trousers after the session and wiped the Baron’s face with his semen, forcing him to drink some of it which he had not dared to repeat as he had been accompanied since then. That in many ways had been the lowest point but mentally the Baron had learnt to cope, his deep Christian faith helping him enormously and the thought that death would allow him to rejoin the two people he loved the most, his first wife and Eric, in heaven, left him relatively sanguine about what fate awaited him. The Baron was looking forward to wiping the smug triumphant smile from Gruber’s fat face. “She is not my whore, she is the whore of the state,” spat the Baron with all the force he could muster, as his throat was dry from not having been given any water in several days. Gruber looked surprised at the defiance of his prisoner and then recognized that this reaction was not the one he had been expecting and meant there would be no cooperation still from this arrogant aristocrat. “Very well, Baron, but you obviously trained her very well. What did you do, send her out to whore with your other conspirators and lure them by blackmail into your tawdry little web of make believe plotting?” grinned Gruber patronizingly. The Baron just smiled despairingly at Gruber’s pathetic efforts to get a rise out of him and stayed silent. He could tell that Gruber was seething and the first blows of the day or was it night – he didn’t know which it was, as there was no window in his basement cell and he wasn’t that much bothered, for to stare out into a street would have been worse and seeing the Berliners going about their normal business would have made him only yearn more for freedom – were about to tumble down on him. Gruber duly obliged, circling him and landing a blow to the side of his head and then to his solar plexus followed by one to the kidneys which took the wind out of him but he was stopped by falling because of the tight binds round him. Gruber’s younger assistant, Hildebrandt, who looked no more than a boy, stood to the side of the dank damp grey stoned room illuminated by just one naked bulb, which hung from the ceiling, and to which Gruber had referred several times as how he would meet his end strung up naked.
“So, Herr Baron,” Gruber said sarcastically, “You still refuse to talk to me, Gruber, about your dastardly plans for the future of the regime. That is indeed a shame for both of us, no?” The Baron shrugged, all he wanted to do was rub his head, which was hammering away after the latest thump. “It depends what you term a shame, Gruber. I don’t feel ashamed myself but I can see for obvious reasons why you should feel that way,” said the Baron. With that Gruber kicked the chair over, stamped on the Baron’s chest, cracking several of his victim’s ribs and proceeded to kick him remorselessly in the stomach until Hildebrandt stepped in and pulled him away, disturbed at his superior’s total loss of control. He pushed him against the wall and told him to calm down before returning to the side of the prone Baron, who was spitting out blood as a result of the onslaught and could sense his stomach was about to cave in while he could only breathe with difficulty because of his shattered ribs. Hildebrandt lifted him back up and untied his ropes so that he could sit easier, but it was clear to the younger man that the Baron was not going to squeal, if he had anything to say that is, and he was in no shape to continue the session in any case. He fetched some water from the bath that lay in the far corner and which had been prepared to dump him in if he still refused to talk and swabbed him down.