The guard looked relieved as he removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and held them out. Herman took one, his policeman’s eye noting the lack of any actual markings on the cigarette packet. Probably imported from France and sold on the black market, he decided, rather than purchased legitimately from an authorised dealer. Evading tax would have been a serious crime, two years ago — the authorities would have taken a very dim view of it — but it wasn’t a problem now. Besides, Berlin’s vast stockpile of cigarettes had been drained by the war. No new shipments were coming into the city.
He borrowed a match to light the cigarette, then inhaled the smoke. It tasted odd, compared to the ones he’d smoked on duty, but he found it hard to care. Doctors might insist that smoking posed a health risk — it was funny how they’d started saying that as the cost of smoking had begun to rise — yet he was a policeman. There had always been the risk of a violent death, even before the war. A suspect, knowing he’d be lucky to escape execution, might just choose to fight…
“Two hours,” the guard said.
Herman nodded in grim agreement. They’d been told they’d be going to the front after the lead units had punched a hole in the enemy lines, but very little else. The older soldiers had been offended at being told so little, even though they knew it posed a security risk. There was just too great a chance of someone sneaking out of the camp, finding a telephone and calling his SS masters. Or merely going back to Berlin for some fun. There had been a surprising number of soldiers on punishment duty when the makeshift unit had arrived at the camp.
We’re too close to Berlin, Herman thought, dryly.
It was a common problem. Soldiers — bored or aware of their own mortality — had a tendency to sneak out of camp in search of wine, women and song. Herman had often rounded up soldiers who’d made it to the pubs, marching them back to the camps and handing them over to their superiors. It was even a danger in a combat zone, even though the soldiers really should have known better. He’d heard horror stories about young men sneaking out of camp in South Africa, only to be caught, killed and mutilated by the local insurgents.
But the stories could easily have been spread by the higher-ups, he reminded himself. How better to discourage soldiers from fraternising with the enemy?
He leaned against the doorway and watched, grimly, as the camp slowly came to life. There would be no formal assembly, not today; units would form up, then march to the front lines and go to war. He wished, suddenly, for a hot bath or even a shower, but he knew they were both impossible. It was a military camp, not a holiday home. There were few luxuries even for the commanders.
“Thank you,” the guard said. “I could have wound up in real trouble.”
Herman scowled. He honestly wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing. Falling asleep in the middle of a camp was bad enough, but falling asleep in a war zone could prove lethal. The guard deserved whatever punishment was meted out to him. And yet, Herman wasn’t sure he could have coped with his punishment. He was no longer able to drop and give a hundred push-ups on command.
“Never mind,” he said. “But if you fall asleep on duty again, I’ll kick you in the nuts and then slit your throat.”
And I mean it, he added, silently. It wouldn’t be the first time a dangerously-incompetent soldier had been pushed out or murdered by his comrades. You put us all in danger.
He turned and peered back into the hut. There were few buildings still standing between Berlin and the front lines; the hut, he’d been told, had been patched up by the engineers before the company had been told to sleep there. He didn’t know if they’d been given the hut because the higher-ups thought they’d need somewhere relatively warm and dry to sleep or if it was an unsubtle insult aimed at the old men. But he had a feeling he’d be wishing, soon enough, that they were back in the hut…
Time to get ready, he thought. Dawn was starting to waver on the horizon. In the distance, he could hear the sound of shellfire and explosions. It wouldn’t be long before the first units started to advance on the enemy positions. We’re going back to the war.
Chapter Fifteen
Germanica (Moscow), Germany East
3 November 1985
Gudrun started awake… and froze.
She was in a different cell. The cage bars that allowed her guards to watch her were gone, the hard bed was gone… instead, she was lying on a plastic bed, inside a room that reminded her of a swimming pool. She took a long breath as she sat upright and shuddered, unable to hide her revulsion. The room smelt like a swimming pool too, bringing back memories of learning to swim at school. She’d dreaded those lessons, but there had been no avoiding them. Or the wet towels snapped across her back and buttocks by the matrons when they thought she was deliberately lagging…
They moved me while I was asleep, she thought, numbly. She looked down and scowled as she realised she was still naked. It didn’t bother her any longer, not when she knew there was far worse to come. But why?
She swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood. Her legs felt oddly steady, even though she knew she must have been drugged again. Perhaps she was growing used to whatever they were feeding her. Or perhaps she’d fallen asleep naturally and they’d just gambled that she wouldn’t wake up, while they carried her to her new cell. She glanced around, studying the walls. They were solid plastic, smooth to the touch. She couldn’t see any cameras.
They’ll still be watching, she told herself, as she examined the door. It was sealed, unsurprisingly, so carefully worked into the walls that she honestly wasn’t sure she was looking at the door until she traced out the frame. There were no handles, nothing to indicate how the door could be opened from the inside. They’ll be watching me to see what I do.
She swept her gaze around the room, but saw nothing. The bed was really nothing more than plastic, hard to the touch. And yet it was warm… the entire room was surprisingly warm. It felt almost like a sauna. Did they want to warm her up? Or were they just playing games with her mind? She honestly didn’t know.
Be grateful it isn’t worse, she told herself. She’d had to undergo a medical exam, shortly after arriving — she had no idea how long she’d been in Germanica — and it had been humiliating, far worse than anything she’d experienced in the BDM. Being in a cell is better than on the examination table.
She sat back down, shaking her head slowly. Perhaps they were trying to drive her mad with boredom. It wasn’t going to work, if that was the case. She’d always been at the top of her class, in school; she hadn’t been truly challenged until she’d gone to university and discovered that she wasn’t the smartest person in the world after all. Boredom had been part of her life, ever since she’d found out that complaining about the lessons was a good way to be noticed by an angry teacher. And telling him that he’d got something wrong — and he had — hadn’t helped either.
Pushing the thought aside, she concentrated on a more important problem. How long had she been in Germanica? She didn’t know — it felt as if the entire world had shrunk to her prison cell — but she was a woman. Her period had been a week off, more or less, before she’d been captured. And there was no way they could hide her blood from her.