Katherine pursed her lips in irritation. Horst Albrecht had two sisters, both of whom lived in Germanica West… there was no sign they’d been arrested, let alone purged for daring to be related to a traitor. It puzzled her more than she cared to admit. There might have been some doubt over Horst’s true role in the uprising, shortly after it had taken place, but there was no longer any doubt now. Both girls should have been arrested shortly after Katherine had made her report.
The report might be out of date, she thought. It didn’t seem very likely. The Reich had a fetish for bureaucratic efficiency. If the girls had been arrested after Katherine’s return from Berlin it would have been included in the file. Or was there a reason they weren’t arrested?
She worked her way through the file, growing increasingly puzzled. One of the girls was married, but her husband was a mere stormtrooper. He might be on the front lines — or dead — yet he didn’t seem important enough to dissuade the SS from arresting his wife. Hell, he’d probably be arrested too. And the other sister was unmarried, which was odd for a girl of twenty-two. Was there something wrong with her? Katherine wasn’t married, but she was a soldier. She doubted the other girl was a soldier too…
Her father died before he could arrange a match, she mused. But surely someone else would have stepped in…
She worked her way through the girl’s file and struck gold. Impossible!
Katherine had been warned during her training, time and time again, that anything that looked too good to be true probably wasn’t. And yet, the connection was right in front of her. Horst Albrecht’s father had been no one of any real consequence, but his maternal uncle was a Gauleiter! She supposed that explained some of the oddities in his file. His early acceptance into the training program might have had something to do with his need to appear young, but it might also be because his uncle pulled strings on his behalf…
Bastard, she thought. She’d had to work her ass off to get into the program. Horst had had it handed to him on a silver platter. And yet, his marks had been excellent. They won’t have graduated him if they didn’t think he passed.
She felt her smile widen as she worked her way through the file. Clearly, Gauleiter Forster had done a great deal more than just pull strings on Horst’s behalf. He’d somehow concealed his connection to Horst from the Führer himself. And if he’d done that, he could certainly assist Katherine in getting Gudrun out of the city. Hell, with Gudrun married to Horst, he’d have an obligation to help her.
And if I do it properly, she thought, he’ll have no choice but to help me.
It had been nearly seven years since Horst had set foot in Germanica, back when he’d been a schoolboy visiting the giant city for a week. The immense buildings, each one designed to make him feel like a midget, had awed him, even though he and a couple of friends had managed to get into trouble by sneaking out one night to the bars. He’d even considered moving to the city, even though migration in and out of Germanica was heavily restricted. It had impressed him beyond words. Now…
The city had changed, he noted, as they strode through the streets. Or perhaps he had changed, more than he cared to admit. The giant buildings no longer seemed so marvellous; the population scurried from place to place, their faces hidden under heavy winter coats and clothing. Dozens of stormtroopers lined the streets, their eyes flickering from place to place as if they expected to be attacked at any moment. There was almost no threat, as far as Horst knew — the Provisional Government had made the decision not to bomb Germanica even after Berlin itself had been attacked — but the guards were still on alert. They’d been asked for their papers four times already.
Thankfully, Uncle Emil was able to get us into the city, he thought. But he can’t get us into the Reichstag itself.
From a distance, the Germanica Reichstag looked largely identical to the Berlin Reichstag, only larger. A towering blocky building, surrounded by Nazi flags and stone eagles… he couldn’t help thinking that there was something wrong about it, although he couldn’t put his finger on it. And yet, as he walked closer, the sense of oddness only grew stronger. The guards standing by the barricades looked like mites guarding the home of a giant. Whatever the builders had done messed with his head, as if his perceptions were somehow out of alignment. It made him dizzy just thinking about it.
“Papers,” a harsh voice snapped.
Horst handed over his ID card at once. The guard examined it briefly, then glanced at Kurt’s before waving them both on. Horst had no trouble recognising a uniformed bully, the type of man who lived to make others feel small and worthless. And yet, like all such men, he was a coward at heart. He certainly didn’t have the nerve to harass them after seeing where their cards had been issued. Who knew? He might have landed in real trouble.
Bastard, Horst thought, darkly. The man was clearly too much of a coward to actually head west and fight. But then, if some of the rumours spreading through the city were accurate, the entire front line was crumbling. No stomach to do anything but bully people.
He kept his face expressionless as they walked back towards his uncle’s residence. A trio of vans had parked outside a housing block, a dozen stormtroopers watching as an entire family was marched out of the building and into the vans. It was impossible to tell what they’d done, but Horst could guess. Rumour-mongering, according to the wireless, was now a capital offense. Someone had said something indiscreet…
He shuddered as he saw four children, the oldest probably no older than ten. Perhaps the SS would be merciful and send them to a farm in the east as a group… no, mercy was one thing the SS never showed. The entire family would be turned into a gruesome example of what happened to people who spread rumours. They’d be split up, the two boys sent to orphanages and boarding schools while the girls were sent to the farms. Their names would be changed, they’d be beaten every time they talked about their families…
…And they’d never see each other again.
There’s nothing we can do, he thought, sourly. Not yet.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, passing two Volkssturm guards as they walked through the guards and into the residence. A Gauleiter was entitled to a mansion in Germanica, although Horst had a nasty feeling it wasn’t quite as secure as his uncle might have hoped. The SS would certainly have tried to get a spy into his household staff or suborn one of his trusted subordinates…
And if he’s wrong about who can be trusted, Horst thought morbidly, we’ll all wind up hanging from meathooks under the Reichstag.
“Ah, Horst,” Forster said. His uncle sounded remarkably cheerful for someone who was plotting a revolution. “We have a rather unusual visitor.”