“Actually, you grazed his shoulder.”
“Oh. Well, the weapon fell to the ground, I reached for my sidearm, but he kicked me and drew his first. I grabbed for it, he fired, missing me, but then there was another shot. Someone shot him in the back.”
“Who?”
“I have no idea.”
“It was me.”
The car swerved back and forth several times as Vogel tried to regain control after the shock of her revelation. Her husband stared at her wide-eyed, as did the boys.
Konrad spoke first. “You shot him?”
She nodded, her eyes welling with tears, her shoulders shaking as her heart threatened to pound out of her chest. She had been living with the guilt for almost a full day, and every moment had been agony. As time passed, and suspicion kept shifting, she had thought she might get away with it, yet part of her had wanted to confess the entire time, to end the lie they had been living.
But she couldn’t.
It wasn’t just her life she was protecting.
“As soon as you left the room, I took your backup weapon and followed you. I lost you for a bit because you were too fast for me, but I found you again, talking to Griese. When you started to struggle with him, I thought he might kill you, so I shot him, then ran back home. You came back a few minutes later, said nothing about what had happened, so I decided to not tell you what I had done. I returned your weapon when you went to see the guests off safely, then have been trying to figure out what to do since.”
Vogel looked at her in the mirror. “That was quite the shot, Mrs. Konrad. You expect me to believe you made it?”
“I’m an expert shot, Detective. When I was younger, I used to compete, but once we started a family, I gave it up. Now I only shoot for fun, and even that I haven’t done in years.”
Vogel’s head slowly bobbed. “Then that’s that.”
Konrad shook his head. “No, it isn’t. I shot him.”
Vogel glared at him. “Don’t give me that garbage. Your wife just confessed, and now you’re going to try and confuse the issue?”
“No, my love, I did it. You don’t have to try and cover for me.”
Konrad squeezed her hand. “No, you’re both misunderstanding me. What I’m saying is that the official record must show I killed him. If we’re caught, and they find out she killed an SS soldier, and that she’s Jewish, they’ll torture her until the end of time. I have to be the one they think killed Griese.”
Vogel regarded him for a moment, then glanced at her in the mirror. “You’re right. They’d show no mercy.” He sighed. “Very well, you killed Griese. Let’s just hope no one saw what really happened.”
“Captain Hoffman saw what happened, though he didn’t see who actually fired the fatal shot. He just saw the struggle, then me hiding the body.”
Vogel frowned. “That’s going to be a problem.”
“Not really. Hoffman is dead.”
“What?”
“It happened just before you arrived.”
“Did you kill him because he knew you were lying about Griese?”
“No, not at all. He found out my wife was Jewish because of a records search your people initiated, and was going to kill her and the children. There was a struggle…”
“And I shot him.”
Vogel stared at her once again, his eyes wide for a moment. “In the back, no doubt?”
She smiled slightly, dipping her head. “As a matter of fact…”
“So, Hoffman is dead, and we’re assuming no one else saw anything, since no one else has come forward yet. We should be safe sticking with the story that you killed Griese, but I’m hoping that won’t matter.”
Konrad’s eyes narrowed. “That’s right. You said you had a plan. What is it?”
“I’m taking you to a man I know. A bad man. One we’ve been trying to arrest for some time, but he’s well protected because of his father.”
“Who’s his father?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s high up in the Party, and the less you know the better.”
“Why are you taking us to such a man?”
“Because he can get you all out of Germany, and I can’t.”
59 |
Konrad Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany
Stadler stepped aside as a squad of SS soldiers rushed down the hallway, a general he assumed was Graf bringing up the rear. The imposing figure assessed and dismissed him with a glance before entering the room and staring at the dead captain.
“Who shot him?”
Stadler stepped forward. “Apparently Colonel Konrad did, sir. He claimed the captain attacked Mrs. Konrad, and he defended her.”
“You’re telling me that a trained SS soldier like Captain Hoffman allowed himself to be shot in the back?”
Stadler paled, Graf taking the suggestion personally, as if the very idea were an affront to his own sense of honor. “I-I don’t know, sir. I can only go by what I was told.”
“Are you the Kripo detective in charge?”
This is one of those times Vogel was talking about.
“At the moment.”
“Then aren’t you a trained investigator? Shouldn’t you be able to tell me something useful here?”
“I-I’m just a junior detective. My partner, my senior partner, was kidnapped at gunpoint by Colonel Konrad.”
Graf grunted. “Interesting, that. I wonder where the colonel thinks he’s going. Every checkpoint in the city has been notified. The airport, trainyards, ports. He won’t be getting anywhere. Not with a woman and two children.”
“A Jewish woman.”
Graf froze, his head turning slowly toward Stadler, his eyes boring into the young detective’s. “Excuse me?”
“We just found out that she’s a Jew.”
Graf’s lip curled as rage and disgust filled his eyes. “I shared a meal with that woman, and you’re telling me she’s a filthy Jew!”
Stadler cringed at the revulsion, something he had never seen nor experienced before. He was no fan of the Jews, and was happy to see them being forced out of his country, yet couldn’t say any had ever wronged him. This man, however, clearly had a level of hatred for them far deeper than Stadler had ever seen before. “Yes, sir,” he murmured.
Graf drew a deep, slow breath, his eyes widening with a zealotry that would fit well within the inner circle of the Party. “Tear this place apart. Colonel Konrad is obviously a traitor. If there’s any evidence here that he was passing information on to the enemy, I want to know. And I want every man, woman, and child that has interacted with any of them in the past year picked up and interrogated. If there’s one, then there’s a dozen. They’re like rats, and I want them all found.” He jabbed a finger at Stadler. “This is our investigation now. The Kriminalpolizei are no longer welcome here.”
60 |
Gruber Residence Berlin, Nazi Germany
Vogel’s skin crawled as he stepped inside the opulent residence of Felix Gruber, one of the most villainous scum to have taken up residence in Berlin since the rise of National Socialism. His father was close friends with Himmler, one of the original members of the Party, and untouchable by anyone but the Führer himself.
And that meant so was the son.
The Kriminalpolizei were desperate to bust Gruber, but after several careers were ended, and two officers disappeared permanently, no one dared touch the man. Instead, they focused on his associates.
Which gave Gruber carte blanche to do whatever he wanted.
And judging from their surroundings, business was good.
The human smuggling business.
“He’ll see you now.”
Vogel acknowledged one of Gruber’s henchman then turned to Konrad. “Stay here. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Do you trust this man?” asked Konrad, his voice low.
“Not at all. But what alternative do we have?”
Konrad frowned, but nodded. “Very well.” He handed over the bag of money and valuables. �
�Let’s hope this is enough.”
Vogel entered the inner sanctum, the rotund Gruber sitting behind an ornate desk, half a dozen of his men occupying the periphery, holster bulges prominent. Vogel opened his jacket, revealing his own. “Do you want to disarm me?”
Gruber chuckled. “Believe me, Kriminalinspektor Vogel, I doubt you could best all of my men.” He waved his hand. “Please, keep your weapon.”
Vogel placed the bag on the blotter in front of Gruber. “I have need of your services.”
Gruber ignored the bag. “You, a detective with the Kripo, have need of my services?”
“I’m not here officially. You know that. I have a family that needs to get out of Germany. To Spain then eventually America.”
Gruber roared with laughter, his men joining in. “Is that all?” He flicked a wrist at the bag. “You’d need a potato sack of money for that.”
“Then forget America. Just get them to Spain. They can figure out the rest.”
Gruber sighed. “Who are they to you?”
“Does it matter? You’ve never been very discriminating before.”
Gruber jabbed the air with his cigar. “Don’t be rude, Wolfgang. It doesn’t become you.”
Vogel sighed. “I’m sorry. The situation is urgent. The SS is probably already locking down the city to find them. I need them out of the city within the hour, then in Spain as quickly as possible.”
“Why Spain?”
“You have an alternative?”
“Switzerland seems to be a popular destination.” Gruber leaned forward and opened the bag, rummaging through it with a frown. “Well, Switzerland is a little too rich for this sum. Spain it is.”
“Then we have a deal?”
Gruber nodded. “We have a deal.” He directed his cigar at Vogel. “But the next time I need a favor, you owe me.”
Vogel’s chest tightened. He was doing a deal with the Devil to save four innocent people. He just prayed whatever favor he was asked in the future didn’t tip the scales of justice too far. “Understood.”
“Then get out of here.”
Vogel rose and rejoined Konrad and his family. “We have a deal. These people are going to take you to Spain, then the rest is up to you, understood?”
Konrad shook his head. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
Vogel regarded Renata and then the children, all terrified, all innocent. “Because this isn’t my Germany, and because of that, one day, I’ll be executed, and when I’m before God, I want to be able to say I tried my best to do the right thing when I had the chance.” He extended a hand and Konrad took it.
“How can I ever repay you?”
“Survive, Colonel. Survive.”
Two men entered the room. “We have to go, now.”
Renata rushed into Vogel’s arms and hugged him. “Thank you so much for this, Detective. You’re a good man.”
“You’re welcome.”
The family was led out of the room, and Vogel said a silent prayer for their safety. Unfortunately, for all he knew, Gruber was delivering them to Gestapo headquarters.
He would never know.
He stepped back into Gruber’s office.
The man glared at him. “Now what?”
“I need another favor.”
61 |
Anhalter Bahnhof Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg, Berlin, Nazi Germany
Vogel flinched as he woke, his head immediately pounding in agony. His eyes burned, and it took a moment for him to regain his bearings. He was in his car, seated behind the wheel.
And the back of his head throbbed like it was ready to give birth to something horrible.
Someone rapped against the window and he jerked away as a flashlight shone into his eyes. He held up a hand to block the glare.
“Open up!” shouted someone. “Police!”
Vogel sighed then rolled down the window. “Just a second. I’m Kriminalinspektor Vogel. Let me get my ID.”
“Vogel?” The flashlight beam dropped. “Half the city is looking for you.”
Vogel showed him his ID then opened the door, stumbling as he took his first steps.
“Are you all right?”
Vogel shook his head, immediately regretting it. “No, that bastard coldcocked me as soon as we got here. What time is it?”
“It’s almost midnight. The call went out hours ago to find you.” The officer’s eyes narrowed. “You better sit back down, you don’t look well.” He turned and shouted at someone. “Get the station medic out here. And call it in. Let headquarters know we’ve found Vogel!”
“Right away!”
Vogel sat back in the driver’s seat, gingerly touching the back of his head where Gruber’s man had knocked him out with the butt of a pistol. It was the favor he had asked of Gruber, a favor he would pay the price for later, but a favor that he hoped would save his life. For the story he had to convince the others of, was that he had been kidnapped at gunpoint and taken here, where he was then knocked out.
There was nothing he could have done to prevent Konrad from leaving.
And by having Gruber’s men assault him here, at the train station, the authorities would hopefully waste their time searching every train that had left here in the past several hours, rather than focusing on roadblocks and checkpoints.
It was a brilliant plan.
If it worked.
Two medics with a stretcher sprinted toward them, and after a quick assessment, he was horizontal and being carried into the small infirmary at the train station. In less than half an hour, there was a knock at the door, Stadler standing there appearing relieved.
“Are you all right?”
Vogel grunted. “I’ll live. Concussion, apparently.”
“Who hit you?”
“Konrad. He forced me to drive them here then hit me in the back of the head with his gun. I just woke up a little while ago.”
“You’re lucky to be alive. You know he killed Captain Hoffman?”
Vogel shook his head then winced. “No.”
Stadler shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Umm, why were you there?”
“To arrest him, of course. Sergeant Abel at the station called me at home, told me you had left there in a huff after talking to someone at Central Records. I called them, they told me what they had found out about Mrs. Konrad, and I headed over there to arrest them all. Obviously, Konrad killed Griese to hide their secret. They were lying to us all along about everything.”
Stadler shook his head. “Bastards. This is why you can’t trust Jews.”
Vogel bit his tongue. “Have they caught them?”
“No, but half the country is out looking for them. We’ll find them in short order, I’m sure. Nobody betrays the Fatherland and gets away with it.”
“Let’s hope.”
Stadler leaned against another bed. “So, did they say anything to you?”
“Not much, though the colonel did confess to killing Griese to hide their secret. The wife and kids had no idea what was going on.”
Stadler grunted. “That doesn’t matter. She’s a Jew and they’re both half Jew, so they’ll be sent east.”
Vogel cringed at the thought, and again prayed for their safe deliverance.
Stadler shrugged. “You know, for a moment there, I thought you were helping them.”
Vogel gave him a look. “Why the hell would you think that?”
“Well, you’ve been acting kind of strange, and you called off the records search for Frida.”
He sighed. “I only did that because we knew who she was, and it was irrelevant. I figured out that Griese couldn’t have seen the photo from where he was in the room, so I knew that whatever it was he had seen had nothing to do with her.” He gave his partner a smile, hoping to convince him that the final thread he was pulling at was nothing worth paying attention to. “I’m glad you reinstated it though, otherwise we never would have found out she was Jewish. I just wish he hadn’t got the jump on m
e. I would have liked to have arrested him for the murder. I think he would have confessed to try and save his family.”
Stadler laughed, and Vogel’s stomach churned. “He could confess all he wanted, it wouldn’t help. They would have been processed like all the others. Once we catch them, it won’t change a thing. If anything, they’ve made things worse for themselves.” He folded his arms, staring at his partner. “What do you want to do now? General Graf has taken over the investigation, and says we’re no longer welcome.”
Vogel sat up and swung his feet to the floor. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going home to sleep for at least two days. I’ll do the paperwork when and if I wake up.”
Stadler chuckled. “Good idea. And maybe by then they’ll have been captured, and we can close this case properly.”
62 |
Approaching the Spanish Border Vichy France
It had been a long, hard, terrifying journey, especially for the children. It had been days that were so uncomfortable at times, it felt like weeks. Shuttled from one town to the next, sleeping in barns and cellars, meager meals, little chances for the niceties they were accustomed to.
They were animals, and smelled as bad as the pigs they were now hidden under.
It was supposed to be their final leg of the trip.
And their most dangerous.
“Everyone remain completely quiet until I say so, understood?”
Slivers of light shone from overhead through the slats of the bed of the truck, and the bulbous bodies of the pigs, but it was enough for him to see three heads nodding.
“Now, everyone put their hands over their mouths, just in case.
Hands slapped in place, including his wife’s.
Shouts erupted outside and the truck shuddered to a halt, muffled words exchanged before the engine shut off. The farmer driving them was supposed to be a local, a man who regularly crossed the border into neutral Spain.
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