“Our economy is a mess, our internal security system is falling apart and rumours are spreading like… like water after it breaks through a dam. In short, we are on the verge of losing the war. The only thing we have that might deter the enemy from resuming the offensive in spring is a handful of nuclear weapons, which are controlled by a madman. Do you agree with my assessment?”
Alfred took the plunge. “I do.”
Oddly, he felt almost liberated. Perhaps it was a trap. Perhaps he’d just ensured that he’d end his days hanging from meathooks below the Reichstag. But he still felt liberated by saying the words out loud. And yet…
His mind raced. The Gauleiter wouldn’t have dared to approach him, not like this, if the building wasn’t secure… and if he didn’t have a way to deal with Alfred, if Alfred proved unreceptive to his advance. Chances were that the guards, hanging around outside the building, owed their loyalty to their Gauleiter rather than the Reich. And that meant that he was seriously considering doing something about Holliston.
“I see,” Forster said. He studied Alfred for a long moment. “Is our position salvageable?”
“I do not believe so,” Alfred admitted. “Quite apart from shortages in nearly every category, we have far too much territory to defend with far too small a force. I do not know how many tactical nukes are available, but I doubt they would make a difference. There’s just too much territory to defend.”
He grimaced. “But the enemy is unlikely to just let us go,” he added. “They need us.”
“They are willing to agree to a permanent split,” Forster said. “But they need us to remove Holliston.”
Alfred frowned. He’d grown to loathe Holliston. It wouldn’t bother him in the slightest if some kindly soul put a bullet through his head. But Holliston was perhaps the only person with a solid claim to rule Germany East and there was no clear successor. Who knew what would happen after he was dead? He had a feeling that the man in front of him had a very clear idea.
He smiled, humourlessly. “And then… what?”
“The Reich Council will be re-established,” Forster said. “We can offer you a seat on it, if you desire.”
Alfred felt his frown deepen. We… who was this we? How many of the Gauleiters were involved in the plot? There were twenty-one Gauleiters in all — they couldn’t all be involved, not when he knew at least two of them were fanatical Nazis. They’d support Holliston until the bitter end. But the offer was tempting, if it came with real power. He’d always suspected that the previous Führer hadn’t been the only figurehead on the Reich Council.
“A very tempting offer,” he said, slowly. “Who else would be on this council?”
“The Gauleiters,” Forster said. “And perhaps a few other military figures.”
Alfred frowned. Rule by committee was notoriously inefficient. Some of the problems facing the Reich probably owed their origins to rule by committee. But it was better than piling unchecked authority and power on one man. No one, not even Hitler, had been able to grasp the full immensity of the Reich.
“Very well,” he said. Knowing there were others out there who thought as he did was reassuring. They might still be caught — he had no illusions about the sheer number of spies within Germany East — but at least they weren’t alone. “What do you want from me?”
“Help in getting into the Reichstag,” Forster said. “We have to find and kill Holliston before he can trigger a nuclear war.”
Alfred took a breath. “That won’t be easy,” he warned. “Even I don’t control everything.”
“I know,” Forster said. “But you can help us get through the outer defences.”
“Maybe not even that,” Alfred said. “You’d need to get your forces into the city itself.”
“We have half a plan,” Forster said. “Let us see how it works out, shall we?”
“Horst,” Kurt said. “Why didn’t you tell Gudrun that your uncle is a Gauleiter?”
Horst took a moment to consider his answer. He would have been astonished if Gudrun had told Kurt anything about their relationship, even though it was clear that Kurt was less stuffy — and controlling — than the average brother. He’d accompanied Gudrun to the hospital at considerable personal risk. But even so, Gudrun probably wouldn’t have told him much about their relationship. Kurt might have felt obliged to start a fight if he knew Gudrun and Horst had been sleeping together before their wedding night.
But he hadn’t told Gudrun about his uncle…
“I wanted to make a name for myself,” he said, finally. It was why he hadn’t changed his name to Forster, even though he had been effectively adopted. “I didn’t want to be promoted merely because of my relatives.”
Kurt nodded, slowly. He’d probably faced the same temptation, although he’d been promoted rapidly anyway. No one had questioned it as far as Horst knew, probably because Kurt had done an extremely good job when the Reich was dangerously short on good officers. And besides, asking his sister for a promotion would be embarrassing as hell to the average German male. The whole affair seemed calculated to cause all sorts of problems.
“But it could have helped us earlier,” Kurt pointed out. “If we’d known…”
“It would have only upset people,” Horst said. He knew he’d changed sides, when he’d found out the truth, but hardly anyone else would have accepted it without at least some suspicion. Even Gudrun would have had her concerns. Turning on the SS was one thing, turning on one’s family was a great deal harder. “And besides, it isn’t as if I’m in line to inherit anything.”
He scowled at the thought. Technically, Gauleiters were appointed by the Reichsführer-SS, but there was always a great deal of political manipulation behind the scenes. A person who rose to become a Gauleiter would be in a very good position to solidify his family’s position within the Reich, making sure that no one — not even the Reichsführer — could ignore them without consequences. And Emil Forster had been a past master at the art. He’d had enough connections to ensure that Horst had a chance to enter advanced training well ahead of schedule.
And he might have seen me as a tool too, Horst thought. The higher I rose in the ranks, the more useful I was to him.
“I suppose not,” Kurt said. “I don’t suppose Holliston is your father, is he?”
Horst grimaced. “My father died when I was six,” he said, curtly. “I was told he died a hero, fighting in the wars. Now… I wonder what really happened.”
He shook his head. That, more than anything else, had been why he’d changed sides. If the Reich had been happy to lie about Konrad Schulze, a stormtrooper whose father had also been a stormtrooper, were they prepared to lie about a man who’d been closely linked to a Gauleiter? Had his father been killed in honest combat…
…Or had he been wounded and left to die?
Kurt shrugged. “Can we trust Ruengeler?”