The Girl from Berlin: Gruppenführer's Mistress

by Ellie Midwood

  “If you’re thinking that I’m from your beloved Department IV, think why would they send me here to you and not arrest you right in Berlin?”

  It did make sense. And I knew that he was an intelligence agent just because he guessed exactly what I was thinking about.

  “What’s your name and title then?” I asked in English, still expecting the familiar screeching of tires and ‘leather coats’ jumping out of a car to arrest me. The peaceful, almost pastoral street remained silent.

  “I can’t tell you my real name, but you can refer to me as Florin.”

  “It’s a French name,” I noticed.

  “And yours is Italian, Juliette.”

  He knew my code name. Alright, I started to feel a little more comfortable, and moved closer to the American. He was in his late twenties – early thirties, a very clean cut man in thin, almost invisible glasses, with a strong jaw line. Lawyers look like that, I thought for some reason, the ones who charge you an arm and a leg and never lose a case.

  He moved his hat a little from his face and continued.

  “I know what you’re doing here, Mrs. Friedmann, and I need you to tell me something: have you brought here British Pounds only or American dollars as well?”

  “Only Pounds.”

  “Do you know how soon it may be when they are able to falsify our currency?”

  I shook my head.

  “I’m merely a courier, Florin. I’m sorry.”

  He was staring at me hard, and I started to feel more and more uncomfortable under his gaze.

  “Really? What kind of a relationship is there between you and the Chief of the RSHA, General Kaltenbrunner?”

  “I’m his secretary.” I blushed and didn’t even know why.

  The American noticed that and squinted his eyes at me.

  “And he trusts millions of British Pounds, and more than that, the secret of such an important operation to an ordinary secretary? You must understand how unbelievable it sounds.”

  I got genuinely offended.

  “You can think whatever you want, but our relationship is purely one of a superior with his subordinate. I’m a married woman if you forgot.”

  He made a dismissive gesture with his hand as if my marital status was of no interest to him at all.

  “I’ll pretend that I believe you. Just tell me this now, who makes the money and where?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Well, ask him.”

  “He would never tell me that.”

  “I’m sure he would. Men tend to tell their mistresses the biggest secrets.”

  “I’m not his mistress!” I almost yelled back. A man reading a newspaper on the bench across the street lifted his head and looked at us.

  The agent took something out of his pocket and put it in my bag which I held on my lap.

  “It’s a microphone, a very sensitive one, install it in his office and try your best to find out who makes them the money.”

  “Are you insane?!”

  “Or better install it in his bedroom, get him drunk and make him talk. We need this information!”

  “Forget about it!”

  I tried to take the wrapped thing out of my purse as if it was a bottle of rat poison, and give it back to Florin. He caught me by the wrist, and stuffed the microphone back into my purse.

  “Let me remind you, Mrs. Friedmann, that both you and your husband agreed to help our office with everything we need. Only on this condition our government agreed not to try you as war criminals after the war is over, and as you probably already know, you, Nazis, won’t be the one who’s going to win it.”

  “We aren’t Nazis,” I almost growled at him.

  “I’m considering your refusal as a sabotage.”

  “He’s going to find it right away, he’s not an idiot! He’ll know that I did it! And then he’ll personally shoot me, is that what you want?”

  The American paused for a moment as if thinking of something.

  “Fine, forget the microphone then. Just get me that information, and try to do it as soon as possible. We can’t afford for them to do the same with our economy what they’re already doing to the British.”

  “I’ll try, but you understand why I can’t promise you anything.”

  “Try your best, Mrs. Friedmann,” he said in a stern tone, and that last phrase of his sounded almost like a threat. I was sorry that I didn’t go to Berlin with my driver.

  Meanwhile the American got up, threw several dollars on the table as if picking up my tab, and walked away. I caught myself thinking that I didn’t know which of my offices was worse, the RSHA or the American counterintelligence.

  Chapter 15

  Vienna, September 1943

  I tried to look as invisible as it was possible in the middle of the wild party the Austrians were having with Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner as their leader and Otto Skorzeny as his right hand. The latter had just completed a flawless operation in saving the Italian dictator Benito Mussolini from captivity, and even received high praises from the Führer himself, who immediately promoted him to Sturmbannführer and proclaimed him ‘the most dangerous man in Europe.’

  I started to feel bad for our host’s house, some banker who hoped to fix his financial situation by befriending high ranking officers and generously offering them his wine cellar, because when the northern Germans would get drunk and quietly nod off somewhere in a chair, our southern brothers would almost dance on the tables and break bottles off each other’s heads, just for fun.

  They’re like a wild tribe, I thought to myself trying to hide in the corner of a big banquet room. And look at their leader, the respectful lawyer Dr. Kaltenbrunner in his military jacket wide open, his tie long gone due to the alcohol, his bangs always neatly brushed back now falling on one eye, and he’s hugging this monster Otto by the waist and lifts him up in the air as if the latter doesn’t weigh over two hundred pounds.

  “Everybody raise a glass to my boy right here!” The obviously drunk Chief of the RSHA messed up his friend’s hair and roughly patted him on the cheek. “Screw the glass, raise the whole bottle, he’s the most dangerous diversionist in the Reich! In the whole of Europe! With him alone we’ll win this war! To the victory!”

  “To the victory!” An echoing roar like thunder shook the room. I walked out and tried to hide from the uncontrollable Austrians in the library. I figured that it would be the last room any of them would come in to, sat in one of the chairs and picked my legs up. I could have long gone back to the bedroom, which our host gave to Heinrich and I, but Heinrich was also among the celebrating crowd (not to cause any suspicions by staying sober during such a notable occasion), and I was afraid to go to bed alone.

  It was long past two in the morning, I finally couldn’t fight my own body anymore and fell asleep right in the chair. I woke up from somebody brushing my cheek. Still half asleep I smiled, thinking that it was Heinrich. But when I opened my eyes, it was Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner, barely standing on his feet and leaning over me.

  “You’re so beautiful when you sleep…” He brushed my cheek once again. “Like an angel.”

  Alright, we’ve been here before and it didn’t end too well. I could have jumped from the chair and made it past him straight to my room and hopefully to my husband sleeping there, but my boss was blocking me from getting up by holding the back of my chair with one hand, probably the only thing that kept him from falling at this point.

  “I was looking at your face while you were sleeping… no, it can’t be.”

  What can’t be? What is he talking about?

  “Did you want something, Herr Obergruppenführer?”

  He didn’t answer anything, and suddenly grabbed me by my chin and lifted my head high, looking at me closely and frowning.

  “Herr Obergruppenführer… what are you doing?” I whispered quietly, because he was staring at me with almost hatred in his eyes. The same eyes he had when he beat to death one of the Polish ghetto Re
sistance members; needless to say, I got scared.

  “Do you believe in the victory of the Reich?” he finally asked, still holding my head like during the interrogation.

  “Of course I do.” I broke into sweat. He looked very menacing now.

  “Are you ready to die for your country?”

  “Yes…”

  “Are you ready to die for your Führer?”

  “Of course… why are you asking me that?”

  He leaned closer.

  “Are you lying to me?”

  “What?”

  “Are you lying to me?!”

  He’s getting angrier, that’s not good. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I need to answer him what he wants to hear.

  “No, of course not. Of course not. I would never.”

  I stretched my hands to his face, gently touched his cheeks and brushed away the hair from his forehead. I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that I was stroking a wild animal, and didn’t know what it was going to do next: lick my hand or bite it off. I was stroking Dr. Kaltenbrunner’s evil twin. He finally slowly let go off my chin.

  “If you’re lying to me, I’ll kill you,” he said almost kindly; then in one swift move he suddenly grabbed my face, pressed his mouth to mine, kissed me loudly on the lips, turned around and walked away. I stayed in the same chair, thinking what the hell was all that about.

  The next morning while we were making our way back to Berlin on our private plane, Dr. Kaltenbrunner wasn’t even talking to anybody because of the terrible hangover he was nursing; he wrapped his head up in his uniform jacket covering himself from the light, and to all Georg’s questions was mumbling the same reply, “Go to hell and leave me the fuck alone.” Heinrich didn’t look much better, and I kept shaking my head at both of them.

  After getting off the plane the Chief of the RSHA right away declared that Reichsführer can execute him right there and then, but there’s no way he was going to the office, got in the backseat of his car and fell asleep even before his driver started the engine. Heinrich, Georg and I exchanged looks deciding if we should follow his example, but then silently agreed that Reichsführer wouldn’t be as forgiving to us as he was to the eccentric Austrian, and told Hanz to drive us to Prinz-Albrechtstrasse.

  The next morning Heinrich left on yet another trip for his Department, and the already well-rested and smiling Dr. Kaltenbrunner was on his working place even earlier than usual. I kept throwing inquisitive looks at him waiting for the explanation of his more than odd behavior the day earlier, but then I realized that the looks didn’t seem to do any good and decided to ask him directly. I waited till he asked me to bring him more coffee, and closed the door behind after I entered his office.

  “What did you mean when you asked me if I was lying to you?” I inquired after handing Dr. Kaltenbrunner his cup.

  “What?” He looked genuinely surprised by my question.

  “That night in the library, you were asking me if I was lying to you.” I reminded.

  “What library? What are you talking about?” My boss looked even more confused now.

  “Don’t you remember anything?”

  “Not really…” He shook his head negatively. “What did I do?”

  “I was sleeping in the library, and then you woke me up and started asking all those strange questions: if I was ready to die for my country and my Führer, and if I was lying to you.”

  “Lying about what?”

  “That was my initial question that I asked you just a minute ago,” I answered with a smile. Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner burst into laughter.

  “I’m sorry, Frau Friedmann, I was really drunk that night. I have no clue what I was talking about.”

  “I thought so.” I smirked.

  Dr. Kaltenbrunner stopped laughing and looked at me more seriously now.

  “I wasn’t… bothering you or anything, was I?”

  I shook my head no; the scene with a very unexpected kiss I decided to omit. He wouldn’t remember it anyway.

  “That’s a relief!” He laughed again and winked at me. I left his office thinking that there was something seriously wrong with him.

  The working day was coming to an end, and my chief kindly offered me the services of his personal driver.

  “I know that your husband is away, and I can’t allow you to get home by yourself.”

  That was unexpectedly nice of him, but after all I had to admit that he was always nice when he wasn’t drunk. We were leaving the Reich Main Security Office, and I was walking in front of Dr. Kaltenbrunner, who was reading a report just sent to him by somebody. I still don’t know why I noticed the woman approaching us suspiciously and in a quick manner, but then everything happened as if in slow motion. She put her hand inside her pocket and took out a gun. She raised her arm and took aim. I didn’t have time to think at that point, and acted only on instinct: I turned sideways and slammed my whole body weight into Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner, who was following me and, busy with the report, didn’t notice the woman. Surprisingly, I managed to knock him off his feet just as we heard several gunshots piercing the air around us.

  “Die, you murderer!!!” She screamed, still shooting at us. Her voice sounded very familiar.

  Dr. Kaltenbrunner’s reaction was incredibly fast; he grabbed me by the collar of my uniform, yanked me behind the car and completely covered me with his body. The SS guards opened fire at the assassin, while one of them rushed to see if the Chief of the RSHA was shot. Dr. Kaltenbrunner meanwhile got off me and was standing over me on his knees, looking for any possible injuries on my body with panic in his eyes.

  “Annalise, are you alright? Are you hurt? You’re bleeding!” He turned to the SS guard standing next to us and looking very lost. “Get a doctor here, now!”

  “It’s fine, I’m fine, I’m not hurt, I just scratched my hand while falling.” I tried to calm Dr. Kaltenbrunner down before he began turning the whole of Berlin on its head.

  He finally saw that my injury was very superficial, and then grabbed me in a bear hug that almost broke my ribs that luckily survived the fall.

  “Herr Obergruppenführer… I can’t breathe…”

  He nervously laughed.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He loosened his grip, and was still holding me now by my shoulders. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “Yes.” I put my hands on his chest now and looked him all over. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

  “Thanks to you, no.” Dr. Kaltenbrunner gave me the warmest smile, and then helped me get up. “You saved my life.”

  We would have probably been still standing like that looking each other in the eye, if the workers of the RSHA didn’t start pouring out of the building, half of them with their guns out, ready to execute any impudent attacker on the spot.

  In less than five minutes the crime scene was total chaos, with Gruppenführer Müller giving orders to his agents right and left, and the rest of the RSHA agents just lingering around out of curiosity.

  “Herr Obergruppenführer, order them to go home, they’re interrupting my work!” Müller finally couldn’t take it anymore, and turned to Dr. Kaltenbrunner. The latter’s loud commanding voice immediately brought his subordinates to order, and they quickly dispersed, leaving only the agents of the Amt IV on the spot.

  “Do you know her?” Müller turned from the dead body with multiple gunshot wounds on her to Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner.

  “No. This is the first time I saw her.”

  “Well, she definitely knew you if she was screaming ‘die, you murderer.’” The Chief of the Gestapo chuckled.

  Only I wasn’t laughing, standing over the dead girl. The very moment I first saw her frozen face with her eyes wide open, I knew that it wasn’t Dr. Kaltenbrunner she was after, it was me. The dead girl’s name was Rebekah, the former leader of the Resistance Josef’s girlfriend. Josef, who Heinrich and I killed in order to save Adam’s, my parents’ and our own lives. And now
I was more than sure that I wouldn’t get any threatening notes signed ‘R.’ anymore.

  “She looks Jewish,” observed Müller. “I bet she’s one of those, the Resistance or the Underground. Most likely we even have a file on her in our office. We’ll take the body in and check her fingerprints. I’ll let you know who she is by tomorrow.”

  I shifted uneasily from one foot to another. Less than anything I wanted the Gestapo to start their digging. All I could hope for was that Müller would open and close the case as an attempted political assassination and wouldn’t try to find who the real target was, and why.

  _______________

  We were sitting at the massive redwood dining table in Reichsführer Himmler’s house, or better referred to as a castle perhaps. He certainly made a big step forward from a simple school teacher to the second most powerful man in Germany in just fifteen years. Only a few people had the honor to share a meal with privacy-loving Reichsführer, and Heinrich and I would never have been invited here, if it were not for Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner jokingly announcing that I was his personal bodyguard and that he refused to go anywhere without me.

  “That’s a very heroic thing to do.” Heinrich Himmler gave me an approving nod after my boss once again told the story to the guests, who were ready to listen to it again and again. “I’ll talk to the Führer about you. You should be awarded for your bravery. That’s what a truly devoted member of the Reich SS should be ready to do, give their life for their commanders.”

  “I don’t need anything,” I answered quietly under the very proud look of my immediate boss, and a hard stare from my husband’s side. “I was just doing my duty.”

  They were talking about the war a lot, but quietly. Our army wasn’t doing too well on the Eastern front to say the least, but they were still hoping that Hitler’s military ‘genius’ would somehow miraculously replenish the lack of ammunition, soldiers, and turn the course of war in our favor.

  Dr. Kaltenbrunner, however, didn’t participate in one of his favorite topics they were discussing. Instead he kept looking at me with an enigmatic smile on his face, while I tried my best to keep my eyes on my plate. And then, to attract my attention, the Austrian stretched his long leg under the table and slightly touched my ankle with his boot. I raised my eyes to him, and he smiled even wider.