Sabine’s knees started to shake. She’d just told everything she knew to Lily, so why had Kriminalkommissar Becker sent these men to the apartment to search it? “Look, please. I’m not the person you think…”
“That’s what they all say. Do you really expect me to believe you?” the officer said.
Probably not. She scrambled to come up with something to satisfy him. “I gave all my information to Lily just an hour ago, and—”
“Aha…so this Lily, she’s your contact person?” the officer asked.
“Yes, I’m supposed to give her all my information on a weekly basis.” Sabine’s voice trembled, but at least he didn’t wave that gun in front of her nose anymore.
“You’re coming with us. There’s a lot we have to talk about,” he insisted. Before Sabine could react, a burly man yanked her from the couch and out of the apartment, dragging her down the stairs. If it weren’t for his brutal grip on her arm, she would have tumbled and landed in a heap of bones and limbs on the next landing.
“Where are you taking me?” Sabine asked, fear almost choking her, because she did have a pretty good idea where they were taking her. The memory of the last interrogation in the Gestapo headquarters froze the blood in her veins.
“You’ll see.” The man squeezed in beside her with a smug grin. “Although I doubt you’ll like it.”
Thirty minutes later the vehicle stopped in front of the abhorred building in Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse. Sabine did her best to remain calm and hopeful, but the violent tremble in her limbs betrayed her. Hadn’t she just given Lily all the information? Shouldn’t Becker be pleased instead of sending men to raid her apartment?
The Gestapo brutes manhandled her into an interrogation room similar to the one she’d been in the last time. The bare light bulb hanging down from the ceiling flickered in rhythmic intervals, giving her a headache.
Shoved into the room, she dropped onto the chair and barely managed to catch hold of the edge of the table to stabilize herself and keep from falling. “I’m not Ursula Hermann. My name is Sabine Mahler. This is a huge misunderstanding.”
“Tell us the names of those you are working with,” the officer demanded, ignoring her protest.
Sabine shook her head, not knowing of what they were talking. “Names? You know the names.”
A fist connected with her chin. “Give us the names of the people you work with and we spare your life.”
“Please…” Her lips quivered and she had to take a breath before she could voice more words. “I’m working for Kriminalkommissar Becker.”
The officer dutifully noted the name and then realized what she’d said. “Liar!” The slap across her face came without a warning and Sabine pressed a hand on her burning cheek. “Tell me the truth!”
“I was ordered to infiltrate an underground network,” she tried to explain.
“So you admit being a subversive?”
“No.” The word came out in an exasperated yelp. “I’m not…Becker asked me to infiltrate—” Another stinging slap cut off the rest of her sentence. Sabine tasted blood in her mouth and she gingerly touched her cheek, wincing and trying not to give in to the urge to cry.
These Gestapo men didn’t believe a single word of what she said. If it weren’t for her dire situation, she would have laughed. One hand of the foul operation didn’t know what the other one was doing.
“Tell us the names of your contact persons,” the officer said, circling around her and coming to a stand behind her. “Now!” His hands came down on her shoulders and she involuntarily gagged.
“I can’t. Not yet. I haven’t been able to find out who else works for this organization.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” the officer said, hitting the back of her head. “Give me the names.”
“I told you, I’m trying to get those names, but I just made contact today…”
“Lies! Nothing but lies!” the officer yelled. “Stop lying and tell me who you’re working with.”
“I told you already, I’m working for Kriminalkommissar Becker.”
“Frau Mahler, you are skating on very thin ice. Maybe you need some time to think about your circumstances. When we return, I would suggest you be prepared to give us the names of those in the resistance organization.”
He didn’t have to say what the consequences would be if she failed to comply. The hard look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. She sat on the chair after the men left, too afraid to move in case they were watching her. Her body ached from the tension in her muscles, her cheek throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and her mouth was dryer than Sahara sand.
Noises outside the door grabbed her attention and she jumped in her seat when the door suddenly opened, sure the last bells were tolling for her. But then she heard Kriminalkommissar Becker’s voice saying, “This woman is working for me as an informant. I will take over her interrogation.”
Relief flooded her system but turned to shock when he walked into the room flanked by two of the Gestapo brutes who’d manhandled her earlier. His hard gaze swept over her, taking in her swollen face.
“Frau Mahler, I’m sorry for the oversight of my colleagues,” he said, staring at the bruises forming on her cheeks. “They can sometimes be a bit too eager to perform their duty for the Reich. Although…it’s good to see you again.”
Icy spiders crawled across her skin, making her hunch her shoulders. The man’s lame apology didn’t even come close to reaching his cold eyes.
“So tell me, what information have you been able to uncover?” He took a seat across from her, never stopping piercing her with his evil glare.
Sabine slowly shook her head, feeling her cheek throb and her hair start to come undone. One of her bobby pins had dislodged and she feared soon her hair – and her life – would come tumbling down. She blinked her eyes several times, realizing she had allowed her mind to escape. This was neither the place nor time for vanity and if she was to survive this interrogation, she had better keep her wits alert.
She took too long to answer and Becker clapped his hands right in her face, causing her to jump in reaction. “Frau Mahler, I do not like being ignored.”
“Herr…Herr Becker, I don’t have any names right now…I’m supposed to move a Jewish girl and will receive instructions tomorrow. They are very careful, but I’ll get more information then.”
Becker shook his head, making a tsking sound. “I don’t believe you. I think you are holding out on me and trying to protect those who would see the Reich destroyed. It makes me sad, very sad.”
Frantic spiders scrambled all over her skin. “No, Kriminalkommissar. I would never do that. In fact I spoke with Lily Kerber just this afternoon to discuss the next steps.”
Becker pursed his lips in apparent deep thought for a moment and said, “I still don’t believe you. This is taking too long. I think you need a little more motivation.” He nodded at the two men keeping guard on either side of the door, who slipped through the door without a word.
She took a measured breath, trying to still the nerves that were making her knees shake. A commotion in the hallway caused her to turn her head and gasp as Werner was dragged into the room by the two officers.
She barely recognized him in his torn and filthy clothing and with bare feet. His sweet face was covered with bruises, encrusted with blood, and he looked a lot thinner than when she’d last seen him.
“Werner!” Sabine surged to her feet, but before she could rush to his aid a hard grip on the shoulders slammed her back down on the chair. She turned her head slightly, and met the unyielding eyes of one of the agents who had detained her.
“Sabine? You? What?” Werner said with a weak voice only to fall silent again as one of the officers slapped him across the face, yelling, “Quiet!”
Becker nodded to the two Gestapo officers holding Werner up and they quickly handcuffed her husband on the far wall, his wrists manacled to the cuffs mounted on the cinder block wall, forcing his arms wid
e.
Sabine swallowed a frightened gasp when they yanked what was left of his shirt from his body, revealing the red marks on the bare skin of his back. Shaking with fear and fury she turned to Kriminalkommissar Becker, who smiled at her, seemingly enjoying the spectacle.
With her calmest possible voice she managed to say, “You promised my husband wouldn’t be hurt if I did what you wanted.”
“As you can see for yourself, he’s still alive,” the evil bastard said.
“But barely.” Sabine shook her head as tears stung her eyes.
Becker shrugged. “He has proved to be a most difficult participant in our little game.”
Game? This is a game to you? Sabine held back the angry response she wanted to give, knowing that Werner would pay for it.
One of the officers who had hauled Werner into the room produced a many-stranded whip. Becker took great joy in caressing the whip when it was handed to him, almost like he would caress a woman. He slapped it lightly against his thigh walking back and forth in the small room. “Frau Mahler, do you know what this is?”
For the life of her, Sabine couldn’t utter a word, her eyes riveted on the instrument of torture. Becker, though, didn’t seem to mind. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “This is a flogger. The Romans were especially skilled in its use and while I don’t claim to be as proficient as they were…I believe I have developed a steady hand and the ability to wield it without tiring for quite some time.”
He slapped it against the floor in front of her, making her jump. “Tell me what I want to know, or your husband will pay the price. Give me a name. Just one.”
Sabine’s eyes widened as the horror of the situation sank into her brain. She shook her head, pleading with Becker, “I’ve only made the first contact today, with a priest, but I don’t have any other names…I need more time.”
“The priest is just a messenger,” Becker said, giving her a cold nod, before he walked to the far wall and brought the flogger down on Werner’s back and red streaks appeared on bare skin.
“Stop! Please…” Sabine screamed drowning out Werner’s pained groan.
“Tell me what I want to know,” Becker demanded again.
“I don’t have any names, yet. I will receive further instructions tomorrow. Please, stop hurting him,” she begged, close to tears.
Becker didn’t respond. He shook his hand, the flogger making swishing sounds with the movement. The next moment, Becker’s face took on a very focused expression and he flogged Werner time and again.
Sabine cried out and pleaded for him to stop, while hard hands kept her firmly in the chair. She was forced to watch rivulets of blood running down Werner’s back where the strands broke open the fragile skin, and she felt her heart shatter into a million pieces.
After a dozen strikes, Becker stopped. He did a slow twirl to spear her with a masterful glare, sweat beading his brow. “Are you ready to tell me what I want to know, or shall I continue?”
“Don’t! I’ll do anything. Anything at all, but please stop hurting my husband.” Sabine didn’t care that she begged. Pride couldn’t live in the same universe with the Gestapo. “I don’t have a name right now, but I can get you one. I promise, just give me a few more days and I’ll get you the information you want. As soon as I find out where the girl is, I’ll give you a telephone call. I promise.”
Kriminalkommissar Becker scrutinized her for a long moment and then nodded toward the agents watching. “Very well. Cut him down and take him away.”
“But…Oh, please. Don’t hurt him anymore. I’ll get you the information you want.”
“And when you do, you shall get your husband back.”
Sabine watched how the agents dragged Werner from the room. He hadn’t said a word or screamed throughout the procedure, but his pained groans still filled her ears and chilled her soul. “Please don’t kill him. Please…”
“Bring me the information I want and nothing will happen to your husband, but…” – an evil smirk appeared on his lips – “…don’t take too long.” He ordered the two agents to let her go, and disappeared.
Several minutes later, Sabine found herself standing on the sidewalk in front of the Gestapo headquarters, alone, heartbroken, terrified, and knowing that if she didn’t come up with names real soon she’d be signing Werner’s death warrant.
Back in the apartment, Sabine used the solitude to give in to the paralyzing fear for a moment. She sank down onto the threadbare couch, screaming her frustration into the fluffy pillow. Frau Klausen and Ursula might not be home, but the walls in this apartment had ears and eyes.
She lay on the couch, wondering how on earth she’d gotten stuck right in the middle of this mess that her life had become, when all she’d wanted to do was stay out of trouble. Forced to work as an informer for the Gestapo. Not only would she betray the Klausens, but also the kind and warm-hearted Pfarrer Bernau, and who knew how many more people.
They’d backed her into a corner, dangling the one thing they knew she loved most over her head, overwhelming her with grief and fear.
Was it wrong that she wanted to save her husband’s life?
Chapter 23
Sabine woke before daybreak, feeling like she’d been run over by a train. Wishing to remain hidden beneath the covers for the rest of her life, she groaned and traipsed to the front door. Since nobody else lived in the apartment at the moment, she didn’t bother to put on her dressing gown or her slippers.
A piece of paper lay on the floor mocking her with its pristine white color. She slowed down her steps, approaching it carefully, as if the innocent paper would transform into a dragon and spew fire. Her heart thumping high in her throat, she waited a few moments and listened. Nothing. Not even Frau Weber seemed to be up at this ungodly hour.
Someone had braved the night to slide this piece of paper beneath her door. The instructions. Fighting the urge to return to bed and pretend she’d never existed, Sabine bent down and picked it up with her fingertips, holding it at arm’s length.
With the paper unfolded, black, typewritten letters sprang at her eyes. It felt like a stroke of lightning and she let go of the paper. It sailed to the ground, flapping its wings like a bird.
Sabine left it lying and turned on her heels to attend to her morning routine first. Taking extra care with her make-up and hairdo, she dressed in her usual immaculate way. After making tea and a meager breakfast, she finally couldn’t find any more reason to procrastinate and returned to the hallway to pick up the dreaded instructions.
Pick up Ellen and take the underground from Ruhleben to Zoologischer Garten at 7 p.m. Wait beneath the big clock in the main hall with a newspaper open on page 7. Your contact will do the same.
Sabine’s breathing became quick and shallow and she had to sit down on the couch to steady her trembling knees. After a few minutes she picked up the telephone and called the number Kriminalkommissar Becker had given her.
A female voice answered, and Sabine had to wait for endless minutes until he finally took the call.
“Frau Mahler? What a pleasant surprise,” his deep voice said.
It’s not pleasant at all and definitely not a surprise, you bastard. “I…have…received my instructions. The handover will take place tonight at 7 p.m. at the station Zoologischer Garten,” Sabine stammered into the receiver.
“Well done. I’m always surprised, how much a little motivation can boost morale.” Sabine wished she could drag this depraved monster through the cord and strangle him. “You will do exactly as told, but my men will wait for you and your contact person. Don’t make a foolish mistake…” The unconcealed threat in his voice reverberated through the room and Sabine swallowed hard, nodding. Then she remembered that he couldn’t see her and said, “Yes.”
“Good girl. Your husband will be so proud of you,” Becker said and disconnected the call.
Sabine slumped against the back of the couch. As a firefighter her husband constantly put his life on the line
to save others. And his wife threw others in front of the train to save him? Werner would most certainly not be proud of her.
Grateful, yes. But proud? A horrible thought entered her mind. What if he wouldn’t even be grateful? What if he accused her of being a depraved monster just like them?
She grabbed the key for the allotment and hurried off to the factory a few minutes later, grateful for the distraction her work provided. After her shift, she went straight to the allotment area. A patchwork quilt of deep browns and vibrant greens, it consisted of vegetable patches with small huts and sheds. She stopped in front of a wooden gate with the same number as the key in her hand, taller than the height of a full-grown man, flanked by equally high thuja hedges, and opened the padlock.
Inside the hedges, the small garden glowed with vegetables and salad greens, unmistakably bearing Frau Klausen’s signature. She followed the stepping stones past the water well and came to stand in front of a wooden shed. The wood showed signs of age but was amazingly well-kept. Sabine couldn’t help but wonder how often the shed received guests who came to hide.
Sabine stepped inside the hut, closing the door firmly behind her, and said, “Ellen? I’m Sabine and I’m here to take you out of here and help you get to safety.” It took a few moments until her eyes adapted to the darkness in the hut, lit only by sunshine filtering through cracks in the closed window shutters.
A girl crouched on the mattress in the corner and when she got up, Sabine’s heart filled with compassion at the bundle of nerves in front of her. That girl was but a child and couldn’t be more than twelve years old. “Come here. We need to go.”
“You’re not Ursula,” the girl said, feeling with her hands for the wooden planks at her back.
“No, I’m not, but Ursula had to travel and sent me instead.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Ellen asked, her lips pursing.
“You’ll have to trust me on this. We don’t have time because I have to hand you over to another person in forty-five minutes.” Sabine observed the emotions raging on Ellen’s face and added, “I won’t hurt you.”
The Darkest Hour Page 26
