They’re digging in, he thought, as they passed a line of stormtroopers working on a trench network. And getting ready to make us bleed.
He scowled, inwardly, as they passed more and more signs of enemy activity. Trenches, weapons positions, a handful of panzers dug into the undergrowth so they’d be almost completely invisible, except at very short range. A number of trenches were being dug by men and women in civilian clothes, people he assumed had been conscripted by the SS during the march towards Berlin. He couldn’t help noticing that most of the civilians were middle-aged, with no children, teenagers or elderly. It struck him as an ominous sign.
They could have shipped the children east, if they weren’t already evacuated, he told himself, slowly. He wanted to believe it. Hell, if there had been teenage boys in the towns and villages, they would probably have been conscripted into the army. If the children were still there…
He shook his head, sourly. There were just too many secrets buried in the Reich’s past. A few hundred children, torn from their parents and raised as Germans in Germany East, would hardly be the worst of them. He glanced at Kurt, then closed his eyes himself. They’d need to be alert when they reached Warsaw.
It felt like he hadn’t slept at all when the truck finally lurched to a stop. Horst elbowed Kurt — he’d managed to sleep through the entire drive — then clambered out of the vehicle, just in time to see a small army of medics carting the wounded into the city. A number had died in transit; their bodies were dumped to the side, waiting to be placed in a mass grave. It wasn’t common for bodies to be returned to their families, not in Germany East. Horst… had simply never wondered just how sinister the procedure was until now.
Makes it easier to hide something, he thought.
“Herr Inspector,” an Obersturmbannführer said. “We have readied a car for you to drive east.”
Horst allowed himself a moment of relief. He’d feared they would have to take the railway, which would have gotten them there quicker… but forced them to pass through a whole series of checkpoints. Transit within Germany East was heavily restricted. He thanked the officer coldly — as if it was the very least he could do — and then allowed himself to be led outside. The car — a Volkswagen painted black — was already waiting for them. A small flag fluttered from the radio aerial on the roof, identifying the vehicle as an official car; a packet of maps lay on the front seat, just to make it easy for them to find their way to Germanica.
“Try not to drive at night, Herr Inspector,” the Obersturmbannführer warned. “I suggest you stop at settlements along the way.”
Kurt frowned. “Might I ask why, Herr Obersturmbannführer?”
“There have been a number of reported attacks along the roadside,” the Obersturmbannführer told him. “It’s safer to sleep in a settlement.”
Horst nodded, slowly. He’d thought the bandits had been cleared out of the western sections of Germany East, but it was clear they were having a resurgence. And why not? Most of the defenders had been marched west to fight the civil war. Germany East was huge. Forty years of occupation hadn’t been enough to exterminate every last trace of Slavic resistance.
“We will find a place to sleep in the settlements,” he said, frankly. It would be another risk — the settlements might also check their credentials — but it had to be done. “I thank you.”
“Just make sure they know we need reinforcements, Herr Inspector,” the Obersturmbannführer said. “We stripped the city bare to support the offensive…”
He stopped talking, suddenly. His words were far too close to defeatist. And defeatism was punishable by death.
Horst winced at the thought. What wasn’t?
“I’ll make sure they know,” Horst assured him. “We have orders to give our report to the Führer in person.”
He climbed into the car and checked it, carefully. It wasn’t that different from the cars he’d learned to drive when he was younger; indeed, the only real difference was a military radio installed beside the steering wheel. Civilians weren’t allowed radio transmitters without a special licence. Who knew what they might put on the airwaves?
But we will need to summon help if we run into trouble, Horst thought. If an Obersturmbannführer was prepared to admit the existence of bandits to a pair of inspectors, the situation had to be worse than it seemed. And if we do, we might attract far too much attention.
He turned the key. The engine roared to life,
“Let’s go,” he said. They’d stop, once they were well outside the city, to inspect the car for hidden surprises. “We’ll get as far as we can before it gets dark.”
Chapter Nine
Berlin, Germany Prime
30 October 1985
“I wish you weren’t going,” Adelinde Wieland said. “Herman, you have absolutely nothing to prove.”
“I’m an experienced soldier as well as a policeman,” Herman said. “They need me.”
“The war will not be won or lost because a slightly-overweight policeman picked up a rifle or not,” Adelinde said, curtly. “I may be a mere woman, but even I know that!”
Herman winced, inwardly. Nothing was the same any more. His daughter had turned the Reich upside down, his wife had turned into a politician… he honestly didn’t know where to stand. A year ago, he could have forbidden Adelinde — or Gudrun — from leaving the house, secure in the knowledge the law would back him up. Now… Adelinde would laugh at him if he tried. And he had never raised a hand to her before…
He took a sip of his coffee instead, wincing at the taste. They might be living in the Reichstag now, but they still couldn’t get good coffee. And breakfast had been nothing more than bacon, cheese and bread.
“I have to go,” he said, finally. “There’s no place for me here.”
“Foolish man,” Adelinde said. He would have snapped at her, perhaps broken his private rule about never striking her, if he hadn’t seen the tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to lose you just because you think you have something to prove.”
Herman sighed, heavily. “Where else can I go?”
He met her eyes. “I won’t be a policeman much longer, even with our… connections,” he said. He’d never taken advantage of his daughter’s position before and he was damned if he was starting now. “The provisional government will disband most of us after the fighting is over — if we survive long enough to be disbanded. And what can I do then? Stay in bed like Frank?”
“My father died to save our lives,” Adelinde pointed out, stiffly.
“He died to save Gudrun’s life,” Herman said. It was irritating. He’d cordially disliked his father-in-law almost from the very moment Frank had moved in with them, but Frank had died a hero. “And I don’t want to be useless.”
Adelinde shook her head. “Please,” she said. “Don’t go.”