Aleksandra

by Heidi Vanlandingham

  They needed someone on the inside who understood the prisoners' plight—someone with the ability to dismantle the ovens along with the gas lines to the showers—or thousands more would die. He knew he was the only person here now who could do this.

  His father may have only owned a bookstore, but Jakob had grown up reading those books and had a rudimentary understanding of engineering. He enjoyed tinkering with anything mechanical almost as much as he loved history and knew he was the perfect man for this job.

  "Just before my parents and their best friends were arrested, I read the Nazi newspaper, Der Stürmer, and a quote published by Julius Streicher stood out to me," Jakob explained. "He said, 'The Jewish people ought to be exterminated root and branch. Then the plague of pests would have disappeared in Poland at one stroke.' This is what we are up against, Aleksandra. Not just a death here and there, but complete annihilation."

  "I'm scared for you, Jakob."

  He noticed the slight tremor of her chin. His gaze rose to her mouth. When the tip of her tongue moistened her lush bottom lip, his body tightened to an almost painful level. The sensations sweeping through him got worse the longer he was around her, and he didn't know what to do with that realization.

  With a low groan, he pulled her to him. Cradling her face, he slowly lowered his mouth to hers. It was the worst decision he'd ever made—and the best. Her soft kiss, hesitant at first, quickly changed. Her hands gripped his sides, and he shivered, the warmth of her touch sending a tsunami of sensations to his groin and, if he admitted it, his heart. She had become his everything, and that scared him to death. He reluctantly pulled his mouth away from hers. Pressing kisses to her closed eyelids, his lips lingered a bit longer on the soft skin in the center of her forehead.

  The rioting emotions inside his chest calmed, and he wrapped his arms around her, liking how her head fit perfectly under his chin. His fingers combed through the silky hair that had come loose from her bun and lay across her cheek.

  "Please don't go, Jakob. There has to be another way," she whispered, her warm breath caressing the tender skin of his throat.

  Not wanting to look too closely at what was happening between them, just knowing she cared about him gave him strength. He could go into this mission and, perhaps with a bit of luck, make it back out again—to her. He exhaled and forced himself to step away. "It has to be me, Aleksandra. I have the most engineering know-how to disable the Zyklon B canisters and destroy the ovens. The murders have to stop. You know this. We cannot let the Nazis continue killing those they don't approve of. If the only way I can contribute is to dismantle the crematoriums, then that's what I must do."

  She stared at him, a sheen of tears in her eyes. "But—"

  He put his finger over her lips and shook his head. "No buts. Knowing you're safe out here with Mikhail and Natalya watching over you will allow me to focus on what I must do inside those cement walls. I have seen your strength, Aleksandra, and whether you believe it or not, you are one of the strongest people I have ever known."

  She shook her head. "I'm not. Not really."

  "You are. You faced death and accepted the challenge of a Norse goddess. You also saved us from certain death and killed those monsters. I used to see the world as black and white, but you showed me there are many layers in between. You are my strength, mein bärchen." He saw the confusion on her face and smiled. "Translated, that means my little bear. Everybody loves teddy bears, but like the actual animal, you have the strength and protectiveness of a mother bear."

  She frowned. "What else are you trying to say?"

  He chose his words carefully, not really knowing himself, but he didn't want to give her false hope. "Truthfully, I'm not sure, but I would very much like to discover what's happening between us. As you've probably noticed, I tend to keep my feelings bottled up, except for the anger." He frowned, struggling with what needed to be said. "I don't know how to open myself up. So, for right now, let's get through this next mission and afterward, we will talk."

  She rose up on the tips of her boots and touched her lips to his then stepped away. Without a backward glance, she walked away. His gaze followed her stiff movements as she picked her way along the trail, heading toward the cave. He sighed, hoping her kiss meant yes. There were still too many things for him to do before tonight, and he and Mikhail needed to come to a solid agreement on their plan of action. Hopefully, it wouldn't take him long to get into position and disable the machines. At least, that was his hope.

  The day passed faster than he would have liked, but his time was now up. He'd already changed into the uniform, which smelled of stale sweat. "Like we planned, as soon as I've dismantled the gas canisters and ovens, I will attempt to make my escape. It won't work, though, unless the prisoner uprising is in full force. The guards need to be focused on that."

  "We'll get it done," Bernard said and shook Jakob's hand. "I wish there was a way you could get word to us when you've accomplished the task."

  "I'll try to find a way," Jakob said, his mind instantly going back to how he and Aleksandra were able to mentally talk to each other. Maybe he could keep her apprised of his situation, if the distance wasn't too great. Hearing something, he glanced outside and discovered her standing on the path.

  He met Mikhail's gray gaze and shook his hand as well, hoping his friend knew he considered him a brother. Mikhail gave him a subtle nod and winked then looked over to where Aleksandra waited. Jakob walked to her and held out his bent arm. "Walk with me a little way?" She nodded and threaded her arm through his.

  "Do you think we'll be able to talk to each other's minds when I'm inside the building?"

  "I hope so. I don't like thinking about you in there without any way to contact us." Her steps slowed then stopped. "I don't like you going at all. It's too dangerous."

  He slid a strand of silky hair that had slipped from her messy bun behind her ear. "I'm not going to go over this again. You know I have to do this. You of all people should understand. Night after night, you climbed into a plywood and canvas biplane, attacking the German front line and escaping the Luftwaffe. I'm thankful I didn't know you then because my heart couldn't have taken the stress."

  She smiled, the gold specks in her brown eyes glowing in the moonlight. "It was exhilarating and meaningful." Her eyes widened slightly and blew out a breath. "Oh...just like flying was meaningful to me, fighting against the Germans is the same for you."

  He wrapped his arms around her, holding her small frame and resting his chin on top of her head. "I need to meet my contact at the tunnel, mein bärchen. I will keep my promise, though, and we will talk once this is finished. All right?"

  She raised her gaze to his and nodded. "Be safe—for me?"

  He smiled and kissed her soft lips, wishing he had more time with her. The one thing he had learned from this war was that time is everything. He didn't want to miss out on a single minute, especially if that minute was with the beautiful woman in his arms. Pulling away, he turned and continued walking toward the entrance to the sewer tunnels.

  Several feet away from his destination, he squatted and waited for the night guard to walk past. Once the man was no longer near, he studied the area for another minute or so, just to make sure no other guards were nearby. Deciding to take the chance, he rose and jogged toward the tunnel and darted inside, sliding to a quick stop when a shadow appeared in front of him.

  "Matthau?" The shadow turned into a man about his own age. He was bald and dressed in tattered clothing, much like what he now wore. The man was about twenty pounds too thin, but when he shook his outstretched hand, Jakob realized the man only looked weak and still had some strength in him.

  "You're Ephraim?"

  "I am. Follow me. We must hurry back, so we will be in time to go with the workers. The last man who tried to get out of going was flogged to death."

  "I'm right behind you." Jakob followed the man as he hurried through the maze of tunnels, all the while trying to remember to breathe throug
h his mouth. It took them about ten minutes to make their way back into the ghetto. Several prisoners milled about where they exited, so none of the guards noticed another man join them. Ephraim pulled Jakob off to one side where they huddled by the outer wall, waiting for the rest of the night to pass. Jakob tried to sleep but couldn't. Too many emotions beat at him.

  He watched as the day broke, and the prisoners were herded into the streets. A nearby commotion drew everyone's attention. He and Ephraim moved through the throng of people. Somewhere close, a woman cried out then went silent.

  Threading their way through the people, they stepped out into an open spot. What he saw in front of them filled him with so much sorrow, he rubbed the building ache in his chest. A weeping mother sat next to a boy lying face down on the cobblestones. She pulled him into her lap and smoothed his light brown hair with her fingers, talking and singing to him. Tears ran down her thin cheeks as she brushed dirt from his frayed green jacket. With a loud wail, she lay on the ground and curled up to his broken body, sobbing.

  Fighting back his own tears at the gut-wrenching sight, he turned his head and noticed an old man sitting beside a smashed cart, rocking a woman, who Jakob assumed was his wife. The man's silent tears fell onto her once-pretty face, her open eyes staring at the sky, unseeing. There were streaks of dirt and blood covering the side of her head. The old man raised his head, his gaze colliding with Jakob's, and he was held prisoner in the bleakness of his pale blue eyes. His heartache grew, and he felt the man's agony beating at him.

  They were joined by Samuel, who clapped him on the back and led him away from the scene.

  "I see you made it—not backing out of this crazy plan of yours?" Samuel asked, rocking on his heels as he studied Jakob's face.

  Blinking back the tears, he cleared his throat, tucking away the images he'd just seen to be mourned later. "I follow through when I make a promise. The ovens and gas canisters will be destroyed, and the killings here stopped—even if it means my death. I hope it doesn't come to that because I left a beautiful woman back at my camp, who I really like kissing." He gave the two men a forced grin.

  Samuel's gaze narrowed. "Then we will do what we must out here to help you get back to her. She is a good woman?"

  Jakob's smile widened as he pictured her in his mind. "Aleksandra is amazing—beautiful, intelligent, and so very brave. She's a Russian Night Witch."

  Ephraim's face transformed, his eyes widening and his pasty skin flushing. "I have heard of these women! The Germans are terrified of them and call them Nachthexen, or Night Witches, because of how their planes sound overhead, just before they drop the bombs." He chuckled. "Like brooms—witches' brooms, they said. I wonder if that is true?"

  "You can ask her. She was a pilot before her accident. She went up against a couple of Focke-Wulf Fw 190s, and her plane didn't fare too well."

  "No," Samuel said, shaking his head. "I don't suppose it did. Indeed, she sounds like a very special woman."

  The yard grew silent, and it took a few minutes for Jakob to realize several German SS soldiers had arrived and were pulling the men aside for a new work group. Ephraim grabbed Jakob's arm and pushed him forward so the guard would see him. With a cold stare and a single command to move from the guard, Jakob followed the fifteen men as they were led down the street and through a tall wooden gate guarded by several German soldiers. Herded inside like cattle, they were marched into the large building. The interior seemed massive, but exactly how large he couldn’t tell. They walked past several metal doors to the end and descended several staircases to what he assumed was the lowest level.

  The workers were divided into smaller groups of three or four men each. His group was led to a side room. Stepping through the doorway, he stood a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light inside and stared around in confusion. There were men digging and several more hauling away the dirt and rocks in wheelbarrows. He lifted an abandoned wheelbarrow and moved closer to Ephraim and a couple other men he’d seen in the ghetto and waited while they filled his wheelbarrow.

  As the mound of dirt his wheelbarrow grew, he glanced around the room, wondering what it would be used for. When his load was topped off, he carefully maneuvered the wheelbarrow to the doorway and followed the line of others in front of them as they moved along the tunnel. By the time he reached the end where the tunnel branched off in three different directions, he’d counted six more rooms being dug out.

  He maneuvered the wheelbarrow around the corner leading off to the right, but this seemed to only be a tunnel with no more branches or rooms. As he continued, he applied more force, pushing his load up a slight incline. When he reached the end, he was out of breath and unused leg muscles were already cramping.

  His gaze swept the surrounding forest and noticed the quiet stillness around them, broken only by the sifting of dirt and the cracking of rocks as they slid from the wheelbarrows. He couldn’t see any guards but the tingling on the back of his neck told them they were there, hidden. He dumped his load then headed inside. The moment he wheeled into the room Ephraim joined him, picking up a few rocks and tossing them into the wheelbarrow.

  "Ephraim, why isn’t this area finished? I know a little about construction and it is highly unusual to start from the top floor and work down." Jakob asked.

  "This bottom floor will be another set of ovens. The side room over there will be for storing the bodies from the gas chambers above. This area was originally supposed to be living quarters for soldiers. They dug out the tunnel and added the left branch, which leads to new bunkers. If you follow the tunnel straight ahead, you’ll come to a huge kitchen, dining hall, showers, and a medical facility. Like they do everywhere they go, the Germans have gone underground. They’re no better than moles."

  Ephraim scratched his bald head. "There were supposed to be only two ovens, but when Heydrich came to see the progress, he demanded two more ovens be set up down here along with a storage room. There is another here who can help you. His name is Antoni. He sometimes works here, sometimes upstairs, and can get you into the Zyklon B control room. I will look around down here and see what I can find out. I know most of these men—they will give us aid if it destroys the Nazis."

  "Thank you, Ephraim. I welcome any and all help but be careful. I don't want you or anyone else's death on my conscious. If it's too dangerous, I will find what I need on my own."

  "Nonsense." Ephraim threw several more rocks into the wheelbarrow, and Jakob realized the man had more strength than he previously thought, which was a good thing if this was going to work. "We need to feel helpful," Ephraim said. "The people here need to do something to keep hope alive. We haven't had a lot of that in a while. You and your plan are a breath of fresh air for us."

  As the men passed them with dirt-filled wheelbarrows, Ephraim muttered something. Jakob caught a loudly whispered thank-you in Russian and another in Polish, making him wonder just how many prisoners were here from other countries.

  The work never stopped. Jakob lost count of how many times he and Ephraim made the trip down the tunnel, but the room was almost finished. Sometime during the day, he had discovered the room’s purpose—body storage—and dirt was good enough, cement would not be wasted in any of the rooms along this end of the tunnel system.

  Early the next morning, his body stiff from sleeping on the uneven dirt floor, he stretched his back and neck, trying to work out the pinched nerves and muscles from the previous day’s work. The guards picked out the younger, healthiest males and corralled them upstairs.

  Jakob stepped into the huge room, his eyes widening at the crematorium spanning the length of the entire room. He had never seen anything like it. The size alone made his job daunting, but to see the interior space each muffle provided was terrifying. Now all he had to figure out was how to permanently dismantle them.

  15

  Several of the prisoners shuffled closer, hiding Jakob from the guards' view so he could maneuver to the control panel along the back wall.
The metal cover lay off to one side, perhaps forgotten by the technician hooking up wires, gauges, and fuel lines. He studied the intricate design, tracing electrical wires to their connections, as well as metal tubes going from the back of each cement section through the building's exterior wall.

  His gaze moved to the pile of bags stacked in the far corner then turned back to the tubes in the wall. Ephraim walked around the corner and joined him. Jakob pointed at the bags. “Is that cement?”

  Ephraim’s gaze followed Jakob’s finger and nodded. “Yes. The Nazis had us pile them in the corner of each floor for any repairs or modifications. Why?”

  Jakob gave him a crooked grin and pointed to the tubing along the wall. “We’re going to pour the bags into the fuel lines on all four floors. It will act like a plug, and the ovens won’t work. Help me carry the bags. You start at that end and I’ll begin down here.

  Working together, it didn’t take them long to pull apart the lines at the individual wall connections and pour the cement mixture into the tubing. Before they reconnected the tubes, he ripped apart the wiring and dropped the switches and even a few connectors into the cement-filled tubing inside the walls. Once discovered, of course, the panels would be quick fixes, but all the prisoners needed was time, and this would give it to them.

  He had never seen such instrumentality before and had been expecting the usual coke-fired ovens used in other camps. This system reminded him of a diagram he'd seen of a new plane the Nazis were designing. If they didn't find the bunker where this craft was being built, neither England's nor the United States' planes would be able to fight them. Maybe they could work on that project next.

  He stood and glanced around the area, making sure nothing seemed out of place. The moment he and Ephraim stepped out of the room, their fellow prisoners surrounded them, heading toward the staircase.