THE FÜHRER'S DAUGHTER (Episode 1)

by Joshua Graham

  CHAPTER SIX

  HE WON’T HAVE ME KILLED. No, she must have misunderstood. After all, Father never actually said that Friedrich had been executed, only ‘dealt with’, right? What kind of father would have his own flesh and blood killed for simply stepping into a library?

  Trying to take her mind off of it all, she opened the door, went down the hall and descended the stairs to the den near her parents’ master suite. Taking great pains to remain undetected, she opened the door.

  “Everything okay, Miss Grace?”

  She nearly jumped. “Miles!” she whispered. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “I’m sorry. Saw you walking all careful-like and thought something might be wrong.”

  “Can’t talk right now.” Despite the scare, she felt the need to put her arms around him and give him a hug. “If anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.”

  “Well, all right then.” He sauntered off quietly singing, “I haven’t seen Miss Grace, I haven’t seen Miss Grace, I haven’t seen Miss Grace, have you?”

  She stepped into the den and shut the door. The familiar musty redolence welcomed her as she entered. So many old books, yet barely anyone else ever set foot in here to make use of der Familienbibliothek. Perhaps it was because as a “fiction” library, the only books allowed were those that glorified and extolled the virtues of war, Aryan ideals, Adolf Hitler, the Kaiser, and the Empire as a whole.

  Dry and predictable.

  She opened the window and took in the fresh spring air. With a strong tug on the handle, she opened the desk drawer and reached into the back, groping for a forbidden treasure.

  There, just where I left you.

  She pushed the drawer shut with her hip and stared at the book in her hands. The hardback cover was frayed and singed, but the title embossed in gold remained legible: The Hobbit. Someone had rescued it from the pyre of forbidden literature. She dared not mention its existence, lest the tome meet its intended fate.

  Bilbo Baggins was a kindred spirit, though they couldn’t have come from more different worlds. He lived in a hole in the ground, she lived in luxury. He had to do everything for himself, while she had servants to wait on her, hand and foot, and lived in the warm glow of loving parents.

  Was that all going to change now? She shuddered at the thought of remaining the innocent and compliant daughter of the Führer under the charade he and Mother had constructed.

  How can things ever be the same?

  She fingered the bookmark and opened to that page. The quote underlined by the previous owner drew her gaze unrelentingly.

  There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go.

  Fun.

  Right.

  The sound of Father’s deliberate footsteps coming down the hall jarred her back to the gravity of her situation.

  “Miles, where’s Grace?” he said outside, frightfully calm.

  “I haven’t seen her, Sir.”

  “Then find her.” If words could be barbed, Father’s would have torn through flesh, especially when delivered in that placid tone he reserved for when he was truly angry.

  “Right away, Sir.”

  Two sets of footfalls went in opposite directions.

  One approached the den.

  Ducking behind a large wingback chair, she watched the doorknob.

  Held her breath…

  With a loud slam, Father slammed the door to his room next door, and began a tirade, this time with Mother as his audience. Their window was open and just about every word came through that of the den.

  “How could she do this to me?” Father said.

  “She’s just a child—”

  “She’s practically eighteen, old enough to be held accountable. How many times have I told her the archives are off limits?”

  “You’ve said so yourself: She has your curiosity.”

  “Ruhig sein!” He paused, then softened his tone. “Darling, do you know what the Kaiser will do if such a breach happens again?”

  “And how did he learn of it?” Mother said.

  “I don’t know, perhaps we have a spy. I’m still looking into it.” Frustration soured his tone. “But mark my words: Whoever leaked that information will be—”

  “Dealt with, of course!” Mother’s sudden agitation startled Grace. While it was probably best to flee right now, she could not help but remain and listen in. “All you ever do is threaten. You rule with an iron fist, but never take even a moment to listen, to understand the people whom you are supposed to lead.”

  “My dear wife,” he said, his words measured but intimidating, “if one did not know you better, one might think that those were the words of a rebel, or worse, an Infekt.”

  “They are the words of your wife, mein Führer.”

  Grace could only imagine the tension in their eyes during the ensuing silence. She didn’t realize until the pain from her fingernails digging into her palms revealed that she’d been clenching her fists.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, breaking the silence. “The damage has already been done. There is nothing else I can do.”

  “You wouldn’t—you couldn’t…”

  “We wouldn’t be in this mess if not for your bleeding heart!” The thud of his boot reverberated as he emphasized his point. “It’s your fault, you know.”

  “Hans, please.”

  “You’re the one who insisted on showing compassion to a dying Infekt—Now, this is what it’s amounted to.”

  “But she’s our daughter!”

  “It was your idea to adopt her.” His voice grew rueful, lacking conviction. “I…I just wanted us to have a child together, a strong and perfect Aryan child. Not one of…of those!”

  Grace swallowed a dry lump. Me? An Infekt? How can that be?

  “If anyone’s to blame,” Mother said, “it’s me. You mustn’t hurt her.”

  “That the Kaiser knows of the archive’s breach is proof that we have a spy in our midst. So it’s only a matter of time before the entire Empire learns that we’ve harbored and raised an Infekt as our child.”

  “Hans, please!” Mother pleaded.

  He clapped his hands angrily. “Not another word!” Then in a lower tone, full of regret: “No doubt you’ll hate me from this day on. But that girl has left me no choice.”

  The door squealed opened and Father tramped down the hall unleashing a string of oaths in German. Mother’s muffled sobs came faintly through the wall.

  Tears cascaded off Grace’s face and onto the book she still held in her trembling hands.

  Adopted?

  Infekt?

  No, it couldn’t possibly be true.

  And yet somehow, in a bizarre way, it was all beginning to make sense. Though countless questions still plagued her, one thought kept resurfacing.

  I’m going to die.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HEART HAMMERING IN HER CHEST, Grace gave no thought to anything else but what she must now do. Her confirmation as regent was in less than a week, her rehearsal dinner and speech in thirty minutes—How could she possibly be thinking of this?

  None of her earthly possession mattered now that those she treasured most—her parents—were not what she thought they’d been. As she opened her backpack, the only criteria for what to bring was, what can’t I live without?

  With precision and efficiency, she stuffed essential clothes and other belongings inside. The framed picture on her nightstand caught her eye—herself, standing with Mother and Father, posed outside the Volkshalle in Berlin. They all looked so happy at the time. We were all happy then. She pushed the frame facedown.

  Lies, nothing but lies.

  A subtle knock came on the door. Startled, Grace shoved the backpack under her bed and crept near the door.

  “Who is it?” she said, feigning a pleasant tone.

  “It’s me—Miles.”

  “Go away,” she hissed. “I’m in
bed.”

  “That why your light’s still on?”

  “I turned it on because you knocked.”

  “We have to talk. It’s important.”

  She cracked the door open. “What is it?”

  “Can I come in?”

  She grabbed him by the sleeve, and pulled him into the room. “What is it?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your reception, Miss Grace?”

  “I’m not feeling well,” she said, combing through her hair with her fingers. “Think I’ll just go to bed.”

  “All that racket you were making? Sounded to me like you were gettin’ ready to go somewhere.”

  With her eyes, she gave him and urgent plea. “You have to leave now. If somebody finds out I spoke with you tonight, it’ll be very bad for you.”

  “That so?”

  “Miles, I just found out some things about my paren—I can’t even call them that anymore.”

  “Miss Grace?”

  She blinked and regained her sense of urgency “I just don’t want anything to happen to you once I’m gone.”

  “Gone? So you are going somewhere.”

  “Which is exactly why I wanted you to leave two minutes ago. Just knowing this puts you at risk.” She knelt down, pulled her backpack out, and dropped it on the bed. “I’ve got to hurry.”

  All the innocence left him, his demeanor grew stark. “Grace, listen—”

  “No, you listen to me!” She swallowed the sob that nearly escaped her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes. “The more you know, the more danger you’ll be in.”

  He leaned against the door and stroked his chin. “Truth is, you’ve been the one in the most danger, when you didn’t know the truth.”

  “What?”

  “And now that you know what the Führer’s going to do, you’re in the greatest danger of all.”

  Mouth agape, Grace asked, “How did you—?”

  “This has all been planned for a long time now. And tonight’s the night you’ve got to escape. Now, I’m your only chance of doing that.”

  She grabbed the locket she found in the archives and crammed it into her bag. “Wait, how do you know all this? Did you—?”

  “You know because you were destined to know.”

  “Wait a minute—”

  “We’re running out of time, Grace. If we’re going to make it out alive, we need to hurry.”

  “Miles…”

  “Any way you can sneak out and meet me outside the back entrance to the palace gates in five minutes?”

  “Yes, but—wait, what do you mean we?”

  “You didn’t think I was just gonna let you go alone, now did you?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We have to move, now.”

  She slung the backpack over her shoulders, took a step forward, then stopped. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to believe, who to trust.”

  “Who’s the one person in your life right now that hasn’t lied to you?”

  She forced a smile. “I’ll see you in five minutes.”

  Miles slipped out the door without making a sound.

  Just as she was about to leave, she grabbed a novel off her bookshelf. The Count of Monte Cristo—one of her favorites. But she wasn’t bringing it along to re-read it. There was another reason. A photograph buried in the middle of the book depicted a mother, a father and their baby. It was just like the one she found in the archives. The joy on their faces frozen in that moment beguiled her. Who were these people? And why was this picture in the palace? She slipped it back into the book and stuffed it into her bag.

  This was it.

  She would never return.

  One final look: The proud red, white and black Nazi flag hanging on the far wall, the gown on her bed that she would never wear, and the photo of the false life she’d once known lying face down on the nightstand.

  She switched off the lights.

  Goodbye.

  Grace had sneaked out of her room often enough to know where the trouble spots were on the wooden steps. A creak or two might alert one of the guards. Ordinarily it wouldn’t be a concern, but tonight it was life or death.

  Holding her breath, she navigated the steps.

  Slowly.

  Carefully.

  Downstairs and through the hall, a pair of guards murmured in the distance.

  Despite her caution, she missed a step, and took a short tumble to the foot of the stairs.

  Her palms slapped the marble.

  At the sound, the guards turned around, spotted her. “Fräulein Grace?”

  She gasped, clambered to her feet.

  They began to run over to her.

  Looking to the left, then the right, Grace took off.

  “Stop!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MILES CHECKED HIS WATCH as he waited for Grace. Success hinged upon precision. Without it, there was no escape.

  Come on, come on. Where are you?

  Armed with nothing but a genial smile, he approached Andreas, the sentry on duty at the gate.

  “What’s your business?”

  “Come on, Andreas. Do I really have to give you an answer every time I go through these gates?”

  He shrugged apologetically. “It’s for the logs.”

  “Just say I was going out for a stroll.”

  “Shouldn’t you be on duty, tonight of all nights?

  Miles shrugged. “They didn’t want no ‘Africans’ serving tonight…of all nights.” A trickle of perspiration rolled down his back.

  “A stroll, indeed. Come now, Infekt. Give me something more believable.”

  I’ll give you a knuckle sandwich, is what I’ll give you.

  Miles grinned, then glanced at his watch.

  Where are you, Grace?

  CHAPTER NINE

  IN A MATTER OF SECONDS they would overtake her. Grace chose a careful route that steered clear of the ballroom, and of any of the arriving guests. Whether Father meant to have her dealt with before her confirmation, or years after locking her away and making excuses for her gradual disappearance from the public, she didn’t care to speculate upon. All that mattered right now was getting away from those infernal guards double-timing after her. But she held one distinct advantage: She knew where she was going, and they didn’t.

  Shouts and walkie-talkie chatter filled the corridors as they called for assistance.

  In a palace built by a government wary of coups and assassins, secret passageways abounded, hidden beneath the ground floor. Father once showed her where to go if they were to ever find themselves in the midst of an insurrection. The secret tunnels provided a route to safety.

  “We are the only people who know about these tunnels,” Father had once told her. “No one else does, not even my staff.”

  She was nearly out of breath. A successful escape demanded a lead of about five seconds to slip into the underground corridors undetected.

  Best guess, she had maybe three.

  Just then, the dissonant shriek of a klaxon pulsed.

  Great.

  Picturing the inevitable chaos going on in the ballroom about now, Grace covered her ears and raced past the dining room. She flung a chair into the hallway, then pulled down a large potted plant. Doubling back through the kitchen, she headed for Father’s study.

  She dashed inside, locked the door behind her.

  In less than three seconds the guards were pounding on the door.

  “Open up!”

  She kicked aside the rug in the center of the room, and pulled up the trap door—the entrance to the tunnels. It was impossible to hide where she was going, but it didn’t matter. She’d be gone by the time they searched the unfamiliar labyrinth of passages.

  As Grace descended the ladder, the sound of splintering wood rang out. Each blow robbed her of a breath. The guards were breaking the study’s door down.

  She glanced at her watch.

  Two minutes.

  She’d only
been down here twice, once when she was five and another time when she was twelve. Both times with her ever-protective “father.” Now, not only had the truth shattered her perception of him, it had taken the man she’d loved, and replaced him with a stranger.

  Nevertheless, she still recalled the rhyme he taught her in case she needed to escape on her own.

  From the study,

  Keep it steady,

  One, two, three.

  First turn left,

  Then turn right,

  And you’ll be free.

  She sprinted down the corridor, keeping her hands out to feel the wall.

  One.

  On her left, a gap in the wall opened to another hallway.

  Two.

  This time, a break on right.

  Three.

  Again an opening on the right side. Then she found the hallway on the left and raced through.

  The sound of clamoring guards drew nearer.

  They were in the tunnel.

  But she wouldn’t be for long.

  In less than ten steps, she darted right.

  The passage wound to the right and downward. She didn’t remember the declining terrain, it had been a while. Searing pain coursed through her legs. Where’s that exit? It should be here!

  With a loud smack, something struck her forehead.

  Grace staggered back.

  A brick wall now stood in the place where the exit was supposed be. She shined her watch light in the area to find another way out.

  None.

  Without a thought, she sprinted toward the last hallway that branched off the main corridor.

  The overhead lights flashed on.

  Stung her eyes.

  Voices grew louder.

  She quickened her pace.

  Have to get out of here!

  She blinked a few times until her vision cleared.

  Without warning, something caught her utterly by surprise.

  She froze.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “MOTHER!” GRACE SAID, as she came to a stop. She was dressed in a flowing white evening gown, adorned in spectacular jewels. “What are you doing?”