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15 November 1985

“I need to ask you a question,” Katherine said, as she half-pushed Gudrun into the washroom and turned on the water. “What happened after the winter fire?”

Gudrun froze. There was no way anyone outside her family knew about the winter fire. How could Katherine have learned of it? How…?

“I need to know,” Katherine hissed. “What happened?”

“I have a cousin — Fritz,” Gudrun said. She felt a sudden surge of hope. Katherine wouldn’t have known to ask unless she was in contact with someone from her family. Kurt? Or her father? Or… “He told me that I wouldn’t be anything other than a housewife. I punched him.”

“Good for you,” Katherine said.

Gudrun had to smile, despite her conflicting feelings. “He fell over backwards, his nose bleeding,” she added. “Father was very unhappy and Kurt took the blame.”

“Oh dear,” Katherine said. “Was that all?”

Gudrun shrugged. She didn’t know — she’d never known — if her father had seen through the lie or not. He’d never been easy to lie to, but he’d given Kurt a thrashing instead of asking questions that would have unravelled the whole deception. Fritz had certainly never told the truth, although if the truth had come out everyone would have laughed at him. He’d had his nose bloodied by a girl!

She didn’t feel too sorry for him. Fritz had been a little creep when he’d been a child and he hadn’t improved as he’d grown into a teenager. Gudrun had caught him ogling her more than once, even though they were cousins. He’d bragged of his grand plans to join the SS, but she had no idea if he actually had. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d bloodied his nose.

He was probably snapped up at once, she thought, nastily. He had the right mindset to spy on everyone.

“We didn’t see him afterwards,” she said. “He never came round again.”

She smirked. Fritz wouldn’t have suffered if Kurt had punched him — at least, he wouldn’t have been a laughing stock — but he wouldn’t have wanted to risk being smacked by Gudrun again. If Kurt hadn’t lied… Gudrun had never quite understood why Kurt had lied. It wasn’t as if Gudrun had been in any real danger. Her father might have laughed at Fritz himself rather than punishing Gudrun.

“I see,” Katherine said. “Thank you.”

Gudrun looked at her. “Why…?”

“Not a word,” Katherine said. “And don’t speak of it outside this room.”

She pushed Gudrun under the water before Gudrun could say a word. Water ran down her body, washing away the dirt and grime from the cell. She rubbed at her hair, wishing for some shampoo, as she began to think. The only way Katherine could have found out about the whole affair was from Gudrun’s family… no, it had to be Kurt. No one else knew the full story.

And that meant… hope warred with fear in her breast. Katherine had taken care of her over the last few days — and she’d saved Gudrun from Doctor Müller — but it might all be a trick, a plot to get her to let down her guard. And yet, Holliston had been very clear that Gudrun was going to be sent east. There was no need to try to break down her defences any longer, no need to force her to talk. And besides, she honestly didn’t know anything of value.

They probably thought I wasn’t at the table for any military decisions, she thought. She’d punched Fritz for his casual assumption that she’d never be anything other than a housewife, but she had to admit that most women in Germany never were anything more than housewives. It galled her to know that such casual misogyny had provided her with a degree of protection. And even if I had been, anything I knew would be out of date.

She scowled at the thought. If she’d been a man, she would probably be dead by now. No, there was no probably about it. There was no other reason to keep her alive, now that Holliston had apparently abandoned the plan to use her to somehow break the Provisional Government. She would have ended her life hanging from a meat hook under the Reichstag if she hadn’t been a girl. Instead…

I’ll be sent east if he has his way, she thought, morbidly. And that will be the end.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought. She’d heard enough horror stories — mainly from Horst — to know she didn’t want to go to the east. Conditions were terrible, she’d been told; it was hard, nearly impossible, to find women who were willing to go. The Reich preferred to send its female prisoners east because it was cheaper than keeping them in the camps — and because it let the Reich get some use out of them. And if the women objected to their new roles as housewives and mothers, there were plenty of ways to keep them in line.

She looked at Katherine as she stepped out of the shower. Could she be trusted? Gudrun had no idea, but she knew she didn’t dare ask. Katherine had taken an immense risk asking her the question, even with the running water making it hard — if not impossible — for the audio pick-ups to hear her. And yet, was it all a trap? There was no way to know.

Occam’s Razor, she reminded herself. The simplest solution is normally the correct one.

There was no need to get her to incriminate herself further. She was the founder of the protest movement that had overthrown the Reich Council. Holliston didn’t need any more of an excuse to dispose of her, even if he did have to send her east in a mocking display of clemency for the misguided — and foolish — female. And there was no point in trying to use it to entrap Kurt. If Katherine was in contact with him, she’d know where to find him.

She glanced at Katherine. “Can I get some clothes?”

“Not yet,” Katherine said. She sounded regretful. “Orders.”

Gudrun nodded, crossly. Walking around naked now felt quite natural, although she suspected she’d change her mind if she had to leave the building. Hell, she’d change her mind if she had to face Holliston again. The would-be Führer was going mad. How long would it be, she wondered, before he decided to hurt her himself? Katherine couldn’t stop him from doing whatever the hell he wanted.

And it’s probably cold outside, she thought, darkly. She couldn’t have been in the cell for longer than a month, if that. Winter was probably already sweeping over Germanica. If I walk out like this I’ll freeze to death.

* * *

“She’s alive,” Kurt said.

The relief he felt was overwhelmingly powerful. He’d been tormented for weeks by the thought that it was his fault that Gudrun had been captured, even though she’d made her own decisions. If he’d refused to go to the hospital with her — or even reported her plans to their father — the world would be a very different place. But his sister was alive! He wanted to go to her right now… he shook his head, forcing himself to calm down. Rash action now, in the middle of the enemy camp, would be utterly disastrous.

Katherine eyed him, quizzically. “Why did you take the blame?”

Kurt shuddered. Fritz… had been a thoroughly unpleasant person. Kurt had caught him staring at Gudrun dozens of times, his eyes crawling over her breasts or buttocks and then looking away hastily when she turned her head. And he had a feeling that Fritz would have spied on Gudrun in her bedroom, if he’d had the chance. He’d been on the verge of punching the little bastard a dozen times before Gudrun had slammed her fist into his nose. Watching Fritz fall, whimpering in pain, was one of the few decent memories of his cousin.