“I don’t know,” Gudrun repeated. “It was never discussed!”
“It should have been discussed,” Doctor Müller said. “I think you’re lying.”
Gudrun forced herself to think, even as he started pinching her, running his fingers over her body. The nuclear codes… why would they want to know about the nuclear codes? Had someone actually used one of the bombs? Was that what was different? She couldn’t imagine the Provisional Government using the weapons, but… what if they had? Or what if Holliston was planning to use atomic bombs himself?
She shivered as a thought struck her. What if he already has?
“Doctor,” she said. “Has Holliston used an atomic bomb?”
Doctor Müller slapped her, again. “You will address him by his title, you little bitch,” he snarled, as her head started to spin. She felt sick; she had to fight to keep from opening her mouth and throwing up. “He is the Führer.”
He punched her shoulder, hard. “Why will they use nuclear warheads?”
Gudrun gritted her teeth. “I don’t know…”
She screamed as Doctor Müller hit her, again and again. She’d never imagined such pain, never imagined that a hail of punches and kicks could leave her begging for mercy. Nothing, not even the tender mercies of the matrons, had been so painful. But she didn’t know the answer to his question. She didn’t know if anyone knew the answer to his question.
“Answer me,” Doctor Müller said. She was dimly aware of him pausing, his hands gripping her bleeding jaw. Her position had shifted, somehow, until she was leaning forward helplessly. “Answer the question.”
Gudrun braced herself, then closed her eyes. Perhaps it would be quick.
Katherine was no stranger to casual violence. She’d grown up on a settlement where beating Gastarbeiters was common, even before she’d joined the SS. She knew there were plenty of times when violence was the answer, the only answer; she had no compunctions about hurting someone who questioned her post or her value to the Reich. But she also had her orders from the Führer, orders she couldn’t disobey. And those orders specifically forbade allowing any serious harm to come to her prisoner.
She snapped a command at the guards, then hurried out of the security room and down to the interrogation chamber. Gudrun’s screams echoed down the corridor, fading as her strength faded. Katherine braced herself, then strode into the chamber. Gudrun was kneeling, trapped in a restraint chair, while Doctor Müller stood behind her, unzipping his pants. He was going to rape her…
“Get away from her,” Katherine snarled. Her eyes flickered over Gudrun. She was bleeding, blood dripping to the white floor, but the damage looked mostly cosmetic. Doctor Müller was an expert at hurting someone without inflicting lasting damage. “Now!”
Doctor Müller turned to look at her, his hand on his fly. “I have orders…”
Katherine grabbed him, yanked him forward and slammed him into the wall. “And I have orders to make sure she survives,” she snapped. “You are going to kill her.”
She wanted to scream her disgust at him, perhaps knock his head into the wall several times, but she suspected it would be pointless. Doctor Müller didn’t seem inclined to fight — like most of his ilk, he was a coward at heart — but she frog-marched him to the door anyway, shoving him out into the corridor. He’d probably go whining to the Führer, rather than sneak back or do something else stupid. Katherine gritted her teeth, then turned to hurry back to Gudrun. The restraint chair wasn’t designed to hold someone in that uncomfortable position indefinitely.
No, it can hold them, Katherine reminded herself as she inspected the chair. But people can’t endure it indefinitely.
Doctor Müller was definitely a coward, she noted. Gudrun had been beaten half to death, yet he’d still kept her restrained while he prepared to rape her. Katherine silently promised herself a shot at the doctor’s back, then undid the cuffs around Gudrun’s ankles, allowing her to slip forward. The girl twisted her head, slightly, as Katherine released her wrists, holding Gudrun close to keep her from falling. A moment later, she had Gudrun lying on the ground, her blue eyes staring up at nothing.
“Remain still,” Katherine said, as gently as possible. Gudrun would be in pain, considerable pain. And she didn’t have two years of intensive training to draw on to help her survive. “Let me help.”
She ran her hands up and down Gudrun’s body, checking for breaks. It didn’t feel as though anything was broken, but she couldn’t help noticing how Gudrun flinched away at her gentle touch. She’d heard stories from the east, stories about women who had been beaten and raped by insurgents, stories about how they’d never been the same afterwards. Katherine had sneered at such women — weakness could not be tolerated — yet she had to admit that she’d never been raped. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was easier to understand afterwards. Those women had lost control of their own bodies, just as Gudrun had lost control of hers.
“There’s no real damage,” she said, as reassuringly as she could. “I know it feels bad, but it could have been worse.”
Gudrun shifted, uncomfortably. Katherine sat back and studied her for a long moment. Her pale skin — the very image of ideal German womanhood — was covered in nasty bruises, including both of her breasts and between her legs. Blood was still dripping from her jaw, although Katherine knew it looked worse than it actually was. She put out a helping hand as Gudrun tried to sit up, only to have her hand brushed away. Gudrun would be sensitive to physical touch for months — perhaps years — to come.
And she’s married, Katherine thought. Horst Albrecht was a traitor, a traitor most foul. She would shed no tears for him when he was hung from meathooks below the Reichstag, the customary punishment for traitors. And yet, she couldn’t help feeling an odd twinge of… something. Gudrun had been far more impressive than she’d had any right to be. What will happen to her when she’s released?
She told herself not to be stupid, angrily. Gudrun would never be released.
“I don’t know,” Gudrun said, slowly. Her voice was so weak that Katherine feared she had finally broken. “I don’t know the answers.”
“So it would seem,” Katherine said, dryly.
Gudrun twisted her head. One of her eyes was already turning black, suggesting that Doctor Müller had struck her there. Katherine cursed under her breath. She was no stranger to physical pain — her training had left her bruised and bleeding more than once — but there were limits. Doctor Müller had beaten Gudrun out of sheer sadism.
And out of a desire to please his master, Katherine thought, coldly. I wonder if he was authorised to ask questions about nuclear weapons.
“What…” Gudrun coughed and started again. “What happened?”
“Nuclear weapons were used,” Katherine said. There was no point in trying to conceal it, not from a girl as smart as Gudrun. Besides, the only way she could ever be rescued would be through a direct assault on the Reichstag itself. The war would be lost. “Your offensive failed.”
Gudrun let out a bitter sound, a cross between a gasp and a sob. She’d probably known people who would have fought on the front lines, Katherine thought. Her older brother was a soldier, according to her file; her younger brother was pushing the edge of military age. He might have been enlisted already, if the rebels were desperate for manpower. Somehow, she found it hard to imagine Gudrun using her position to ensure that her relatives were sent to safety while others stood and fought.