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“So we have seventeen possible suspects,” he mused. And he knew that he’d given three intelligence packets to the spy, all of which had been removed. “How many of them went out more than once?”

“Five,” Herman said. “One staffer stayed out overnight twice, according to the records; the other four went out five times in the past week.”

Horst scowled. If there was one spy, logically it had to be one of the five suspects. And he could see why a spy’s handlers would want him to stay out overnight, allowing them to be pumped for further information, even though it would raise eyebrows. But if there was more than one spy, they could be rotating courier duty… which meant that all of the original seventeen had to be considered possible suspects.

He looked at Herman. “A battlefield is far simpler, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Herman said. “But there’s also a greater chance at being blown away by a random shot.”

Horst had to smile. He doubted he would have the patience for detective work, let alone the mindset of a street policeman. Patrolling the streets in Russia was deadly dangerous, but Berlin was well on the way to turning into a nightmare in its own right. Even without the SS commando cell – or whatever – that had burned down the warehouse, the city was slowly collapsing into chaos.   And with an army just outside the city, sniping at everyone who showed his face, a major riot might just be enough to give the city to the SS.

And if that happens, I grab Gudrun and run, Horst promised himself. There will be no hope of savaging the situation.

Herman cleared his throat. “I’ll have all seventeen shadowed, if they try to leave the Reichstag again,” he said. “It isn’t as if this is a dangerous place to be.”

Horst nodded. None of the shells had landed within a kilometre of the Reichstag, accounting for the growing number of refugees squeezing into the magic circle. Karl Holliston, it seemed, wanted to recover the building intact, although Horst had a private suspicion that he wanted to ensure that the provisional government could actually surrender. Killing the only people who could order a full-scale surrender would be very unwise.

But then, he thought, who would want to surrender?

He sighed as he started to pace the room. The reports were very clear, even if some of the details had been hidden from the general public. Soldiers, sailors and airmen who fell into enemy hands were being marched eastwards to an uncertain fate. Horst would not have cared to put money on their survival. The SS might not be machine-gunning surrendered prisoners, but they could easily be kept in concentration camps and starved to death. Hell, the SS had even started shipping women and girls eastwards too. Horst had a nasty feeling he knew what that meant.

They’re of good blood, he thought. It was rare for German women to be executed, although he suspected the women might wind up wishing that they had been allowed to die. And in the east, they can be turned into brood cows without anyone giving a damn.

Herman was saying something. Horst flushed. He hadn’t been listening.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Can you repeat that?”

“I said that the Reichstag is the safest place in Berlin,” Herman said, patiently. “Who would want to leave?”

“It is the safest place until they actually storm the city,” Horst replied. “And far too many of those refugees” – he nodded towards the wall – “are going to be ground up like sausage when the shit finally hits the fan.”

* * *

Gudrun had had a busy day, even though she hadn’t left the Reichstag. Her mother hadn’t been able to offer her much advice, but she had urged Gudrun to spend time talking to the older women who had taken over the Woman’s Institute. Gudrun hadn’t enjoyed the experience – the older women seemed torn between clucking in disapproval and being pleased that a female had finally climbed into a position of power – but she had to admit that Frau Morgenstern was a formidable advocate. Under her command, the Woman’s Institute had swallowed up its rivals and was plotting reform… after the war was finished, of course.

She looked down at the list of proposed legal amendments and sighed. Some of them were ones she wanted for herself, ranging from the right to refuse a suitor to guarantees for protection if a marriage broke down, while others were troublesome and contradictory. The older women might want some degree of freedom for themselves, but they were reluctant to extend such freedom to their daughters. Gudrun definitely felt sorry for Hilde, even though she’d been more than a little spoilt. Having Frau Morgenstern run her life couldn’t have been fun.

And she’s now in America, she thought. I wonder if she’ll want to come home.

There was a tap on the door. “Come in!”

She looked up, her eyes widening as she saw her father stepping into the room. He looked tired – he would have been woken at the same time as Horst – but his face was under careful control. Gudrun rose to her feet, unsure quite why he’d chosen to visit. He’d never visited her office before, not even after she’d invited him. She had a private suspicion that his mind had separated her into two people, Gudrun-The-Daughter and Gudrun-The-Politician. Maybe it was the only way he could cope with having a daughter who outranked him.

He wouldn’t be so stuffy if Kurt was promoted to Field Marshal, she thought, feeling a flicker of resentment. But then, father would still be the head of the household.

“Father,” she said, carefully.

Her father closed the door. “We need to talk,” he said, firmly. He’d used the same words, she recalled with a shiver, when he’d approached her about Konrad. Had her mother spoken to him? Or… or what? “Please, sit down.”

Gudrun sat, irked. It was her office.

Her father sat facing her, his eyes meeting hers. “Your boyfriend spoke to me today,” he said. “Did you know he was going to do it?”

“No,” Gudrun said. She found herself torn between joy and fear. On one hand, there was only one thing Horst could have said to her father that would have brought him to her office, but – on the other hand – her father might be inclined to say no. “What did he say to you?”

“He asked for your hand in marriage,” her father said. He cocked his head, slightly. “Are you pregnant?”

Gudrun flushed, angrily. “No,” she snapped. She was already feeling her body’s warning signs. Her period was due within a day, perhaps two. “And I know for sure, father.”

Her father showed no visible reaction, somewhat to her disappointment.  Mentioning female issues in her house had always caused male deafness, as if they didn’t want to admit that they were real. Gudrun’s mother – and her teachers, on the other hand – had been brutally frank, but most of them had been women. The male teachers hadn’t discussed the matter at all.

“Very good,” her father said. He studied her for a long moment. “Do you want to marry him?”