Horst met her eyes. “Are you having second thoughts?”
Gudrun glared at him. She’d always been told she wasn’t expected to be anything more than a housewife and a mother. Girls weren’t brave; girls were meant to keep their mouths shut and just do what they were told. And it had always gnawed at her. Horst, she was sure, wouldn’t think any less of her for backing out, simply because she was a girl!
“No,” she said. “Just be ready to drive off when I come back.”
“I’ll move Leopold into my van, once he gets back,” Horst said. “And I’ll be ready.”
“So will I,” Gudrun said. “The policemen won’t even get a look at me.”
Bracing herself, she stepped out of the van and onto the street.
Chapter Twelve
Victory Square, Berlin
28 July 1985
Gudrun had always found Victory Square a little intimidating.
It had been designed, she’d been told, to showcase the victories of the Third Reich. There were dozens of statues, each one representing a hero of Nazi Germany, and plinths representing battles fought and won by German armies. Every day, thousands of men, women and children thronged through the square, admiring the relics, visiting the museums and donating small change for wounded soldiers. Gudrun had donated some of her pocket money every time she’d visited the square with the BDM – she hadn’t been given a choice – but now she wondered where the money actually went. Did it really go to the soldiers or was it stolen by some corrupt government official?
She pushed the thought aside, straightened her shoulders and started to look for her first target. There was an art to handing out leaflets, she’d been taught as a child; she had to make eye contact, using the motion to make it absolutely clear that the target had to take the leaflet. As an adult, she suspected that the targets only took the leaflets because they knew better than to refuse, but right now it hardly mattered. She walked forward with the gait she’d learned in the BDM and started to hand out the leaflets. As she’d expected, the targets took the leaflets without hesitation and shoved them into their pockets.
Maybe we should have handed out advertisements instead, she thought, as she kept moving, neatly avoiding a BDM matron on the prowl. The crone wouldn’t recognise her, of course, but that might not stop her trying to issue orders. Something that would stand out from the normal BDM leaflets.
She smiled at a pair of young soldiers and passed them a couple of leaflets each, then made a gesture towards the matrons when one of them started to try to flirt with her. He was handsome enough, she had to admit, but there was no time to waste. Besides, even though she knew it was unlikely Konrad would ever recover, she was damned if she was cheating on him until she knew he was dead. She spied a young couple, the woman carrying a small boy on her back, and gave them a leaflet, smiling at the child as she walked away. Who knew what sort of world the child would inherit?
A pair of older men wearing workers overalls leered at her; she smiled charmingly at them both and handed out a pair of leaflets. They took them and looked her up and down, their eyes locking on her padded breasts. Gudrun flushed, then hurried past them towards the next group of prospective targets. The workers, at least, wouldn’t be able to say anything about her beyond the fact she’d had an impressive chest. And, once she pulled out the padding, they wouldn’t have anything to go on. She glanced at her watch – ten minutes left – and moved onwards.
She jumped as a hand fell on her shoulder and spun around to see one of the matrons. “You,” the matron growled. “This section belongs to my girls!”
Gudrun lowered her eyes, pretending to be scared. It wasn’t hard.
“Matron told us that…”
“I don’t give a damn what your matron told you,” the woman snapped. Her breath stank so badly Gudrun rather suspected she never bothered to brush her teeth. “This is our section, so clear out!”
“Of course, of course,” Gudrun said.
She turned and hurried away, wondering just what had got into the older woman. Had someone complained that the BDM weren’t handing out their quota of leaflets? Or was she just enjoying the chance to boss a younger and prettier girl around, scaring the life out of her all the while? She dismissed the thought – it didn’t matter – and walked around the square before she started handing out more leaflets. It wasn’t as if she had a matron of her own to complain to.
A handful of men were coming out of a pub, facing the Ministry of Finance. Feeling daring, she hurried forward and started to hand out leaflets. One man and woman looked odd – there was something about them that puzzled her – but they took a pair of leaflets anyway. Gudrun walked past them and slowly started to make her way back to the vans. No matter how she looked at it, time was running out. It wouldn’t be long before someone read one of the leaflets and gave it to a policeman…
“That is a very odd man,” Penelope said, once Aldrich had headed back to his office. “Why was he being such… such a creep?”
Andrew smiled. “You’ve never encountered anyone like him in America?”
“No,” Penelope said. “Certainly no one so… crude.”
“He’s a government official in the most deeply corrupt government in the world,” Andrew explained, as he took a final sip of his beer. “A man in his position, with a little ingenuity, can do almost anything, as long as he doesn’t offend his superiors. I wouldn’t put it past him to refuse to issue permits without a bribe or some other… considerations. He’s certainly in a good position to sell my gifts and make a tidy profit for himself.”
Penelope gave him a sharp look. “And no one dares to complain?”
“This isn’t America,” Andrew said. “In America, a government official who acts like an asshole can be arrested, put in a courtroom and jailed. Here? Anyone who dares complain will probably wind up on the wrong side of the law and wind up in deep trouble. All Aldrich has to do is mention their name to the security services and watch the rest from a safe distance.”
“I see,” Penelope said. She looked as if she had some other questions, but kept them to herself. “When can we go back to the embassy?”
“I was going to propose a walk around the square,” Andrew said. He understood her feelings – this was her first time in Nazi Germany – but he couldn’t afford to allow her to indulge them. The sooner she grasped – truly grasped – the nature of the Third Reich, the better. “It might help get some of the taste of corruption out of your mouth.”
He waited for her to visit the ladies, then led the way out of the pub and onto the roadside. A BDM girl in a strikingly ugly uniform gave them a long look – she could tell they were foreigners, although he doubted she could peg them for Americans – and then gave them each a leaflet. Andrew took his, put it in his pocket and shook his head as the girl walked onwards, leaving them behind. It really was a strikingly ugly uniform.
“And to think I thought the girl scouts was bad,” Penelope muttered. “That poor girl…”
She glanced at him. “What do we do with the leaflets?”
“We pass them to the desk officer at the embassy,” Andrew said. The girl would probably wind up in trouble if the leaflets were simply dumped, particularly as the police couldn’t do more to the Americans than escort them back to the embassy. “They’ll inspect the leaflets to see if there’s anything new, then discard them into the recycling bin. We may as well get some use out of them.”