Andrew smiled as he departed, followed by Knox. The military attaché would have his own report to write; Andrew, thankfully, could put his off until the following morning, when he’d had a chance to think about what he’d seen. Hamilton finished his own coffee, then headed for the door himself. Andrew watched him go, then looked at Penelope. She looked tired and cross-eyed.
“I plan to go for a walk in a couple of days,” he said. He wasn’t asking for a date, although he knew that some people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. “Do you want to accompany me?”
Penelope hesitated. Andrew understood. No real harm would come to them, they’d been warned when they accepted the posting, but the SS sometimes harassed American visitors to Berlin. It was no great secret that spies were based in the embassy, even though Andrew, Hamilton and Penelope herself had cover stories that should explain their activities. The SS might hope that harassing the Americans would lead them to German traitors.
“It might be fun,” she said, finally. She understood what they’d be really doing, all right. A young couple out on a stroll would attract less attention than a man on his own. “Why not?”
Chapter Six
Albert Speer University, Berlin
20 July 1985
Walking into the Albert Speer University for the first time, Gudrun recalled as she walked towards the doors, had been like taking a breath of fresh air for the first time in her life. Like every other child in the Reich, she had endured fifteen years of schooling where she’d been expected to regurgitate answers and otherwise do exactly as she was told. She’d quite lost count of the number of times she’d been forced to run laps around the school, stand in the corridor or undergo other humiliating punishments for daring to actually question the teacher’s words, let alone the letters they’d sent home to her parents. And yet, despite that, university had seemed a more attractive option at seventeen than trying to become a nurse, a housewife or entering one of the few careers open to women. It had been a surprise when she’d been told that the traits that had got her in trouble at school were precisely the traits the university wanted from its students.
“You have not been taught to think,” her first tutor had said, when he’d addressed the class on the very first day. It had been the first mixed-sex class Gudrun had ever had, but she’d been too fascinated to notice the presence of young men mixed in with the young women. “Here, we will attempt to teach you to think.”
Her first year at the university had been fascinating, to say the least. She’d learned how to use a computer, one of the blocky American-made machines that were imported into the Reich at great expense, and dozens of other skills that made up the background for STEM courses. She knew she had to choose a major by the time she turned twenty, when she would be expected to specialise in one particular field of study, but she was honestly tempted to try to delay that as long as she could. No one had shown her anything of the sort while she’d been at school, let alone allowed her to come to her own conclusions. Hell, she’d never heard of anyone being expelled from the university for asking questions. They were all too eager to learn to make trouble.
“We don’t take everyone,” the tutor had said, a year ago. “The exams we set look for the underlying potential for intelligence, not developed intelligence. You are here because we believe we can help your minds to flourish and, in return, you will advance the Reich.”
She took a moment to admire the statue of Albert Speer, architect, minister and one of the three guiding minds of the Reich after Hitler’s death, then hurried into the building. As always, it was packed; students who had been given the week off for Victory Day had hurried back as soon as they could, preparing for the exams they knew to be coming in three months, exams that would determine their future. Far too many of them actually lived on campus, sharing rooms in university accommodation that were strictly segregated and chaperoned; Gudrun remembered, with a flicker of envy, how she’d begged her mother and father to allow her to apply for one of the university rooms. But her mother had flatly refused to allow Gudrun to live away from home.
Probably thought I’d spend all my time in bed with Konrad, she thought, bitterly. There were housemothers, she’d been told, but they couldn’t hope to chaperone everyone. And abandon my studies completely if I fell pregnant.
She gritted her teeth at the thought as she hurried into the lecture hall. Some of her friends were already there, pens and paper at the ready; they knew better than to be late when a lecture was about to begin. The doors would be closed a minute after the deadline and anyone who failed to make it would be marked as absent, which would lead to a thoroughly unpleasant discussion with the dean. Gudrun had never faced the man himself, thankfully, but she’d heard rumours that anyone who missed more than two classes in a row was given a punishment so awful that no one ever spoke of it…
Which raises the question of just how people know that something happens, she thought, dryly. The dean probably started the rumours himself, just to keep us in line.
She took her seat and nudged Hilde Morgenstern, a dark-haired girl who’d been her friend ever since the first week at university. “Meeting in the private study room this afternoon after lunch,” she hissed. “Pass it on.”
Hilde gave her a sharp look – their private study group wasn’t exactly a formal organisation – and then nodded, turning to whisper in Sven’s ear. Gudrun hadn’t been entirely sure that a group composed of both males and females could work – the handful of dances she’d endured at school had been marred by male behaviour as they grew older – but she had to admit that Sven and the others were very focused on their work. Sven in particular was going to be a computer designer, or so he’d said. He already had an uncanny insight into how the computers they used at university actually worked.
“I think that’s everyone told,” Hilde muttered, once the whispered message had gone down the row. “Isn’t it a little early to be panicking over exams?”
“It’s not about the exams,” Gudrun muttered back. The tutor closed the doors with a loud thud and strode to the podium, his dark eyes searching for troublemakers. “I’ll tell you this afternoon.”
The lecture would have been interesting, she had to admit, if she hadn’t been thinking about Konrad and everything she’d deduced. Thankfully, the tutor didn’t call on her to answer questions – she’d barely heard half of what he’d said – and by the time the class finally came to an end, she’d reluctantly struck a deal with Hilde for a copy of her notes. She’d have to work extra hard, if she could muster the energy, to catch up. The tutors rarely showed any sympathy to anyone who attended the lectures and still needed to beg for advice and assistance.
“That’s not like you,” Hilde observed, as they headed for lunch. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll tell you in the study room,” Gudrun said. She caught Leopold’s arm as he passed. “Can you bring your stereo?”
Leopold blinked in surprise. “Of course I can,” he said. “I’ll see you after lunch.”
Hilde stuck with Gudrun all through lunch, but had the common sense to keep her questions under wraps while they joined the line for food and drink, then ate as quickly as they could at a small table. The refectory was crammed with students, some wearing uniforms from the nearby military college, others daringly wearing American jeans and t-shirts that had been either smuggled into the Reich or sold at an enormous mark-up in one of the few American stores in the city. Gudrun winced inwardly as she saw one girl swaying past, her jeans so tight around her buttocks that she thought they were going to split open at any moment, then followed Hilde up the stairs and into the study room. Leopold was already there, attaching his stereo to the socket.