This past night Sepp had been in his element. A late call had summoned them both to the station house where he received a hastily-typed list of names and addresses. He and Ewald then spent long hours rousting Jews from their beds. Behind each new door on their list they hoped to find a young wife or attractive daughter still in her bedclothes. Twice they felt obliged to do “medical exams,” as they called them, and while nothing incriminating was ever found hidden in those secret places, it was still far more entertaining than the mundane herding of protesting men to the curb.
The Jews on their list, mostly men, were marched through the noisy streets to gathering points where Storm Troopers could guard them until each truck reached capacity. The detainees were destined for the nearest jail. All able-bodied Jews were then scheduled for transfer to the work camps. Forced labor was good business for the Reich, he heard repeatedly.
By the first light of morning Kreisler and Fischer could not resist adding fuel to the fire at Kassel’s main synagogue. A military motorcycle with sidecar had just delivered cans of kerosene to the site, and they bent their backs to help, dousing the wooden chairs and altar with fuel. A young rabbi tried to protect his precious scrolls from going up in smoke, and the agents were surprised by the strength of his resistance. Most Jews protested loudly but gave in to the inevitability of arrest when push came to shove. The two agents punished him all the more for not surrendering docilely to their blows.
Back at headquarters, Kreisler handed over his list to the duty sergeant with every name scratched out in pencil. Sepp and Ewald were ready for coffee and breakfast, and then some well-deserved sleep, but no sooner were coffee cups filled than Captain Brenner entered the break room, military posture perfect, as always.
“So you really are the only two in?” His expression soured.
“Just us. All taken care of, Captain, a good night’s work,” Ewald said.
“Well then, you two get the prize. You’re headed out again, and take a car.”
“But, sir—” Sepp was exhausted, ready to head home and hit the cot.
“Don’t want to hear it, Kreisler.” He looked around distractedly, making no effort to mask his disappointment at seeing his options devolve to these two agents standing at the hotplate. “Believe me, if I could pull in another team they’d already be on the way. This won’t wait, so the two of you are it.”
Sepp and Ewald saved their grumbling until the captain left the room. They were to proceed immediately to the main station and surveil all arriving southbound trains. Their target was a slender blonde woman in her twenties accompanied by a small boy, thought to be en route with an American in his thirties of above-average height and slim of build. The rules of engagement were simple: do not engage. Observe and follow, with regular updates to the captain for immediate relay to Berlin Gestapa. Should detention of the suspects become unavoidable, isolate mother and child from any male companion, then take no further action without specific instructions from Berlin. Under no circumstances interrogate. A reception team would be waiting in Frankfurt to make the arrest.
For the first time Sepp had an assignment of apparent top-level importance. If time off wasn’t in the cards, at least he might finally be able to show he was more than just muscle, someone they’d have to reckon with.
The three engines of the Junkers-52 roared as the police Mercedes crossed the airfield and pulled up beneath one silver wing. Oskar stepped out to get von Kredow’s door, but Horst was already bounding up the steps, signaling the pilot to get moving. Klaus barely had time to find a seat onboard before the plane was airborne from Tempelhof.
Horst admired his own self-control. Should word get out that his much-admired wife was a Jewess—worse yet, an Ostjüdin, her blood tainted with the racial characteristics of the degenerate Eastern European Jew—his rising star in the Nazi firmament would flame out. The ironic link between the morning’s protocol presentation and his current dilemma didn’t escape him. Some in the regime held less stringently to the Party’s anti-Semitic laws and teachings, but Himmler certainly wasn’t one to respect degrees of racial pollution, and neither was Horst.
The city below dissolved in cloud as the sky cleared to blue. The growl of the engines made conversation with Klaus impossible, but they had little to discuss for the moment anyway. Klaus had done well to uncover this treachery and bring it quietly to his attention. Anyone else in the Gestapa would have used it to manipulate him, to bring him down.
Erika’s attempt to divert their attentions to the northern route through Hamburg had been simplistic, but would play into his hands, giving the fugitives a false sense of security. At Kassel his agents would board. At Marburg the Jew-bitch would find her parents missing, but have no option but continue on toward France, their obvious goal. In a couple of hours he would personally welcome the little group at the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof.
His father-in-law, long held in contempt, was out of the picture. The professor had never favored the marriage, and made little attempt to disguise his dislike of Horst. Now he would pay for that impudence. The mother-in-law now in hiding would wait until the last moment before attempting a rendezvous with daughter and grandson. She would never reach the platform.
Ryan Lemmon, the name an obscenity on his tongue. How he had raged when the American made good his escape from Marburg, tail between his legs. And now the coward was screwing her again. Horst wondered how long she had been affronting him with impunity. Marrying the whore had seemed the best revenge for her first indiscretion. Then Horst had used her for his personal gain, and thereafter made her life miserable.
Obviously, that hadn’t been enough, so this time he would crush her spirit before he eliminated her for good. Taking the parents and child would be the first step. The Führer liked a good family man, but Leo had proved a weak child of limited value to Horst’s rise. A plausible cover story would be crafted—the accidental loss of wife and son—and the grieving father would be admired for seeing beyond his personal loss to carry on undeterred for the Reich.
So many tools and techniques to consider, many of Horst’s own devising, others gleaned from medieval witch hunts and the Spanish Inquisition, efficient means to bring out exquisite agonies, wretched pleas, final cries for a compassionate end to the suffering. He had trained a lifetime for this moment. The parents, the lover, the child, finally Erika herself. It would be slow and exquisite pleasure for him.
Lost in these thoughts, he realized he had become aroused.
The station clock read 2:23 as the express from Berlin squealed to a stop on Track 2 at the Kassel station, precisely on schedule. Erika, facing forward as the train brakes shrieked, rose in surprise when she spotted Minna sitting on the platform bench. “Mother’s here, not in Marburg!” Her whisper almost inaudible. “Ryan, watch Leo for me.” She was out of the cabin before he could move to the window.
“Where’s Mutti going?” Leo rubbed his sleep-filled eyes.
“She’ll be right back.”
He glanced at the timetable. Seven minutes in Kassel. While the child slept, Erika had finally described the torture and rape. He reached for his pipe, only to return it to his pocket. He leaned out for a better look. The air was chill, the skies overcast, a promise of rain not yet delivered. The crowd was not as frenzied as at previous stops, but numerous travelers and refugees were lining up to board. Erika dodged passengers and luggage handlers to fall into her mother’s embrace. Minna’s hair hung disheveled beneath her hat, and even from a distance she appeared distraught. Though he could not hear their words, they appeared to argue, repeatedly shaking heads and gesturing toward the train. Both dabbed at tears. Minna had no luggage and appeared to be alone. He scanned the length of the platform for the professor.
Leo stood on the seat, teaching his bear handstands on the luggage rack above his head. “Can you see Mutti?”
“Yes, she’s with your grandmother. They’ll join us soon.”
“Grossmutti’s here?” Leo bound past Ryan to the wind
ow. “Omi! Over here,” he shouted, leaning halfway out the lowered window, “Omi, hurry up, the train’s going to leave without you.” Down the platform a large man in an overcoat turned toward the open carriage window and caught sight of the small boy. He followed the child’s gaze toward the two women, and a smile creased his face. Turning to his companion, he pointed in their direction and mouthed something. His partner immediately cut a quick path to the public phone and grabbed the receiver. The warning came from the conductor to board.
Ryan pulled Leo from the exposed window into the shadows and held the boy firmly in his arms. Erika still tried to draw her mother toward the train, but the older woman refused, taking a stand. She gave her daughter some folded paper and prodded her to leave. Erika headed toward their carriage, then returned to Minna on the run and forced an object from her handbag into her mother’s hand. Without looking back again Erika boarded the train as the doors slammed and the trainman’s whistle pierced the cold air. Ryan watched the grandmother turn away before the train left the station behind. Standing well back in the compartment, the boy still in his arms, Ryan also observed the two men reunite and run to board the last car as the train slowly gained speed.
Minna had taken refuge behind a rusted iron column supporting the platform canopy. Through tears streaming down her face and a gap in the metal latticework she watched the train move out of sight. Her arrest was imminent. She could never return to Marburg and the apartment shared those many years with her beloved Joachim. There was no place to hide. Rumors of his arrest would have spread through the Altstadt, riding the morning gossip from the likes of the Krauthammers. Police would be watching for her everywhere. Hessen had been a hotbed of anti-Semitism well before last night’s riots, and without Joachim, other options were not worth exploring.
Drying her eyes with a handkerchief, Minna sought out the women’s room. She stood before the mirror and applied a little rouge to her cheeks, shaking her head in disgust at the swollen eyes and the deep worry lines of her brow. She fixed her hair in place beneath the hat. “Soon, my darling,” she whispered to a memory.
She entered a cubicle and took from her pocket the small box Erika had forced into her hand. Thoughts of her days as a medical student flooded back. She imagined the hours spent in the clinic, falling in love with handsome Joachim as he made his rounds with her in tow. She removed the hypodermic and morphine, filled the syringe to capacity and eased the needle into a vein. Then, quickly, before she surrendered to the fear, she filled the syringe a second time and completed her task.
The paraphernalia fell to the tiled floor as she slowly sank to rest beside the toilet, drowsiness overtaking her quickly. So much gentler than falling before a train, she thought through the haze.
“Join me, my love,” a murmur in the fading light.
chapter two
Erika slumped to the floor of the vestibule, sobbing. She unfolded the note and held it to the light, reading through her tears:
My dearest Erika,
We know H. will never let us survive to speak of his “defilement.” That he has had the privilege to be married to a brilliant, beautiful woman and to father an adorable son means nothing next to his bigotry and unbridled ambition.
Your father’s fate is sealed. He has helped men released from the camps, and knows of their mistreatment and degradation— of the deaths. He knows what awaits him, as do I.
All that matters now is that you and Leo find refuge
as this nightmare takes its chosen course. The outside world will not help us. Our own neighbors will disavow us to save themselves. This we understand. Fear rules our lives under these people.
We have lived and loved as few others. We go together no matter what ensues. We are scientists, not believers. Yet I still sense I shall soon rejoin your father.
This we have agreed, knowing that such a moment could come, and we will not slow you down in your flight. Be safe, knowing you are loved forever.
Your adoring Mother and Father
Erika was wracked by despair, her hope for her parents shattered, helpless in the face of such power and hatred.
Ryan found her slumped against the vestibule wall, face buried in her hands. He held Leo by one hand, the other grasping the valises. “What’s the matter, Mutti, why are you so sad?” Leo put his fingers to her cheek and gently touched her tears.
She stood and picked him up, rocking him gently. “It’s all right, everything’s fine.” Ryan handed her his handkerchief.
“We’re out of time.” Ryan’s voice loud, the wheels rattling and squealing on the track below. “They’re on to us.”
“Who?”
“Two Gestapo, coming this way, now. Don’t know if they saw me, but they spotted you and Leo. We have minutes at most.”
“Where are Omi and Grosspapa?” Leo began to weep, wrapping his arms around her neck and tucking his head beneath her chin.
“What’ll we do? We’ve nowhere to go on this damned train!” She shook her head in frustration and weakness.
“Go as far forward as possible with the bags. The agents boarded at the rear. They’ll pass me before they reach you, and I’ll stop them anyway I can. Whatever happens, the two of you get off at Marburg; it’s the next stop.”
“And do what? Where do we go from here?” Her voice now flat with resignation.
“Call René.” Ryan jotted down the numbers. “Memorize this and destroy the paper. Now go.”
“Ryan, I…” she bit her lower lip, “thanks.”
“We’re in this together. Now go!” He gave a smile he didn’t feel and ushered them into the aisle. “We will make this work.” Ryan watched them move up the corridor to the first forward compartment before he entered the rearmost cabin of the car, relieved to find it empty. He took the seat nearest the door. He would look the agents in the eye as they approached. Perhaps he would have a few moments to prepare.
The self-defense training in Virginia now seemed ludicrous. An actual weapon would be nice. He recalled a couple of schoolyard encounters with bullies, a black eye here and bruised knuckles there, a beer hall skirmish in Berlin. College boxing, welterweight, a lark, but these types were heavyweights, and no referee to call things off when things got rough. Track and field, that was his style: run like hell, vault over obstacles, go for the finish. Not pounding fists and broken limbs. What the hell’s keeping them? Memories of Isabel flooded back: the fight in the warehouse, flailing bats and broken bottles, brass knuckles to the belly, Isabel’s furious kicks, her love of danger. Why had he let her go it alone?
He had always been the diplomat rather than the soldier. Now he had volunteered to spy, and circumstances were forcing him to fight. At any moment licensed bullies would come to arrest Erika and the boy. Did they already know about him, as well? The Hamburg train ruse had bought them nothing. What in God’s name could be stalling them? They should’ve passed by now. A small station clicked by, a blur of passengers waiting for local trains. He checked the pocket timetable. They had to come at any moment, the Marburg stop just minutes away. His heart raced. What in the hell are they waiting for? This time there would be no running.
Sepp Kreisler looked up in surprise at the sudden rush of sound as their compartment door opened. He bolted to attention, his partner following suit. “Heil Hitler!” His cigarette smoldered at his feet. The tall Gestapo officer wore authority on his lapel. The Party pin was richly tooled, jewelry rather than mere emblem. The suit of heavy wool appeared expensively cut. The man glanced around the compartment before stepping into the confined space. Sepp immediately spotted the finely-worked gold chain running from vest to the warrant badge in the man’s hand. The officer rubbed the metal disc distractedly between thumb and forefinger.
“Identify yourselves, gentlemen.” A Prussian asshole, but one to be reckoned with.
“Kreisler, sir, and my partner Fischer. Out of the Kassel office.” He crushed the dropped cigarette with his heel. These full-of-shit, educated SS types never dirt
y their hands with real street action.
“As so often, what we have here is a duplication of effort. The woman and child are forward in first-class in my custody. Is headquarters up to speed?”
“Yes, sir, I personally phoned our captain.” Ewald was looking to be named in the officer’s after-action report. “He’ll have let Berlin know by now, as directed. We’re to observe only, at least till Frankfurt.”
“And the older woman who made contact with the target on the Kassel platform?” He slipped the badge into his vest pocket. “Detained, I presume?”
“Our men will have her by now,” Sepp said, knowing when to suck up. His partner would not get all the glory.
“Splendid, I’ll take it from here.”
“If I might ask, sir, what’s the nature of the crime?” Ewald, trying once again for points.
“Only a domestic matter, but of interest to the Reich. It goes no further, understood?”
“Of course, sir. We’re told there’s an American, as well?” Sepp imagined some big shot’s wife screwing a foreigner and now trying to avoid paying the piper. He gave a knowing smile.
“We snapped that one up in Göttingen.”
“Anything further from us then, sir?” Ewald asked.
“My new orders are to remove the detainees at the next stop, rather than wait for Frankfurt. The two of you can help expedite things, then catch the next train back to Kassel.”
“With pleasure, sir,” Sepp said. “You caught our names, right?”
“Kreisler and Fischer.” The officer gave a curt nod of recognition. “Well done, gentlemen. Your contributions will be noted, now let’s get forward. Wait for me in the first compartment while I fetch the detainees, then I’ll brief you further on my needs. Clear?”
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