His blood ran cold. If the base was gone — and if Germanica was in enemy hands — he was trapped. They might not be able to get down to him, but he couldn’t escape either. And that meant…
Cold hatred congealed in his heart. “Bring me the bitch,” he snarled. “Now!”
The technician hastily saluted and practically ran out of the room.
Katherine gritted her teeth as she ran down the corridor, cursing under her breath. She couldn’t leave Holliston in the communications room, not when he could be using the radio and landlines to summon reinforcements or launch the nukes. But getting into the room might be tricky. She barely noticed two men as she shot them down, intent on her destination.
“In there,” she said, as she slowed to a halt. The door was solid metal. She couldn’t get through without a grenade. “We need to…”
The door opened. A young man ran out, his eyes going wide when he saw Gudrun. He started to say something incoherent, but Katherine shot him before he had a chance to finish whatever he was trying to say. And then she led the way into the room.
Karl heard the shot and jumped, picking up his pistol and bracing himself. Treachery! Even in his bunker, there was treachery! His eyes opened wide as he saw Katherine, of all people, running into the room, followed by Gudrun. The bitch was still naked… his head spun as he realised she’d subverted Katherine, of all people. Was he the only one immune to her charms?
But there was no time to worry about that, not now. He lifted his gun and fired.
Gudrun recoiled in shock as Katherine grunted in pain, then remembered herself and fired back. Holliston’s eyes seemed to meet hers, just for a second, as he crumbled backwards, blood leaking from his chest. She saw utter madness and hatred staring back at her just for a second, then he fell to the ground. And yet, she kept pulling the trigger until she realised that the gun was clicking uselessly… She’d run out of ammunition.
She reloaded, then stepped forward, holding her pistol pointed directly at his head. But it was clear that he was dead.
It’s over, she thought. She turned to look at Katherine and winced. Her left arm was hanging limp, blood dripping through the sleeve and down to the floor. Shit…
“It’s a flesh wound,” Katherine said, irritated. “Pass me that medical kit, then get in touch with the guards at the gate. Tell them to open the hatches.”
Gudrun looked at her. “Will they listen?”
Katherine barked a harsh laugh. “The war is over,” she said. She opened the medical kit with one hand and removed a bandage, wrapping it around her arm. “And they now have the choice between surrendering or staying down here until they die.”
Gudrun nodded, then went to work.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Berlin, Germany Prime
27 November 1985
“The treaty will make everyone mad,” Gauleiter Emil Forster predicted, cheerfully. “That is the mark of a good compromise.”
Volker nodded in agreement. It had taken nearly two weeks — after Karl Holliston had been confirmed dead — for the Gauleiters to secure control of Germany East and then start the work of hashing out a peace treaty. Negotiations had been relatively simple — it helped that both sides wanted pretty much the same things — but there had been more than a few hiccups along the way. And yet, the urgent need to end the war as quickly as possible had helped paper over the cracks. The Berlin Treaty — the first Berlin Treaty — wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.
“You and your Reich Council will have Germany East all to yourselves,” he said. “How many people do you think will desert you?”
Forster smirked. “How many people do you think will desert you?”
Volker shrugged. One of the provisions — perhaps the most controversial — had been a general amnesty for everyone involved in the pre-war regime and the war itself. It galled him to think that Karl Holliston would have gotten away with it, if he’d survived, but he had to admit that a general amnesty was the only way to end the war. Countless thousands would probably head east — or west — to escape their crimes, yet there would be no official prosecution. The stormtroopers who had slaughtered their way across Germany Prime would never face justice.
And they won’t be the only ones, he thought, grimly. Far too many people were taking advantage of the chaos to settle old scores. How many citizens have good reason to flee?
“We will see,” he said, briskly.
He shook his head as they left the office and walked down to the ballroom. Countless dignitaries had gathered in the Reichstag, from civil servants and military officers to ambassadors from a dozen different nations. The French and Italian representatives would be signing the second Berlin Treaty in a day or two, once the final provisions were checked and approved by their governments. And after that, the British and Americans would sign a treaty intended to put an end to the cold war.
Not that we’re in any state to continue the confrontation, he thought, grimly. Rebuilding the damage caused by the civil war will take decades.
It was a frustrating thought. He’d already given orders to pull the remaining troops out of South Africa — the Waffen-SS would be headed directly to Germany East — but it would take time and money to disentangle the Reich from the rest of the world. South Africa was already screaming about a betrayal, even though Germany East had offered settlement rights and citizenship to any Afrikaner who wanted to move to the Reich. Volker couldn’t help feeling guilty about abandoning Pretoria, but there was no choice. The Reich simply couldn’t afford to maintain its commitment to South Africa.
He sighed as he caught sight of Gudrun, standing next to her husband and brother on the far side of the room. She wore a long green dress, her blonde hair falling down around her shoulders, but there was a grim… vulnerability in her eyes he couldn’t recall seeing from her before. A month in captivity wouldn’t have done her any good at all, even if she had shot Karl Holliston personally. Volker just hoped she’d be able to cope with her demons and remain on the Provisional Government. She’d be needed in the months to come.
“Winning the war was easy,” he mused. “But winning the peace… that will be hard.”
“Quite so,” Forster agreed, equally quietly. “There’s a lot of work to do.”
Volker nodded. The Economic Intelligence Service had quietly concluded that Germany East was in deep trouble. Their industrial base had always been tiny, meaning it would take decades to replace everything lost during the civil war. And they’d taken hideous losses during the fighting… holding the territories they’d already settled against a resurgent insurgency would be difficult, perhaps impossible. But the Easterners were tough. They might just hold on long enough to rebuild their lands.
And they have nuclear weapons, he thought, sourly. They can defend themselves.