“Go,” her father said. “I have a meeting now, but I’ll see your mother and yourself at dinnertime.”
Hilde nodded, rose and left the room. It might have been an accident, but her father had given her something to think about. And something, she knew, she would have to discuss with the rest of the group as soon as possible. Who knew what would happen if the Reich came apart at the seams?
“You weren’t seen, were you?”
“I don’t believe so,” Andrew Barton said. Walking through the richest part of Berlin was far safer than trying to sneak through the suburbs. “As long as the papers you provided are in good order, I shouldn’t have been in trouble even if I had been stopped by the police.”
He smiled as Arthur Morgenstern sat back in his chair. The man was deeply corrupt – and desperate for ready cash. Slipping him a few hundred thousand dollars had been more than enough to turn him into a source, although – as always – Andrew had to remember that the SS might be playing him, rather than the other way around. Morgenstern was genuine, as far as he could tell, but there was always a quiet nagging doubt.
“That’s good,” Morgenstern said, after a moment. “There have been developments.”
Andrew took a seat and leaned forward. “What sort of developments?”
“Threats of a new set of trade unions in various corporations,” Morgenstern said. “And people whispering about those damnable leaflets. Even my wife knows what they are.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Andrew said, sincerely. Frau Morgenstern would have made an excellent source, if she hadn’t been more determined to build up her own power base than assist the United States. “And your daughter?”
“Denies everything,” Morgenstern said. He looked up, suddenly. “Could you offer her a scholarship to Caltech?”
“I could arrange for her to be selected, if she puts her name on the lists,” Andrew said. The university would kick up a fuss – and the FBI wouldn’t be any happier – but the OSS had more than enough clout to make sure that Hilde Morgenstern was safely out of the Reich for a couple of years. “Does she have genuine potential?”
“Her marks are good,” Morgenstern assured him. “I’m sure she could pass the entrance exam.”
That proved nothing, Andrew knew. Caltech would try to reject her if she didn’t pass the exam – and they’d be furious if Andrew’s superiors insisted on allowing her to attend anyway. But competition was fierce at Speer University, he had to admit. Hilde Morgenstern wouldn’t have managed to get as far as she had if she hadn’t had genuine talent along with her family’s connections.
Morgenstern sighed, loudly. “First we had problems in France, now we have problems in the Reich itself,” he added, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t like the idea of new trade unions.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t,” Andrew agreed. “I thought they were banned.”
“Oh, they are,” Morgenstern said. “And the workers should know it. There are government unions to take care of their requirements. But they’re ignoring the rules.”
Andrew wasn’t surprised. The only hint of socialism in Nazi Germany lay within the Nazi Party’s name – National Socialism. In reality, the corporations made big donations to the Reich’s government and, in exchange, all independent trade unions were banned. Anyone who tried to found one could expect to be fired and jailed, perhaps exiled to the east, in short order. And yet, as the Reich’s economy tightened and pay checks grew thinner, it was harder and harder for the bosses to intimidate the workers into silence.
“That could be a problem,” he agreed, dryly. “What have your masters decided to do about it?”
“Nothing, as yet,” Morgenstern admitted. “I think they’re hoping the whole problem will just go away.”
“They thought that before the Great Depression too,” Andrew reminded him. “But it didn’t.”
“No, it didn’t,” Morgenstern agreed.
He was frightened, Andrew realised. Given his position in the Ministry of Industry, he had good reason to know the full scale of the problem. Andrew hadn’t been sure what, if anything, to make of the leaflets, but if Morgenstern was worried…
“And if it doesn’t go away,” he said carefully, “what do you think they’ll do?”
“Something drastic,” Morgenstern said. “And I want my daughter out of the Reich before that happens.”
Andrew nodded. “We’ll see what we can do,” he said. “But she will have to pass the exams, Herr Morgenstern. Anything else would be far too revealing.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wieland House, Berlin
6 August 1985
Gudrun lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Her parents hadn’t been particularly demanding, much to her relief, ever since Konrad’s father had called Gudrun’s father and had a long – and private – discussion with him over the telephone. Gudrun hadn’t been sure how her father would react – particularly if he realised that she’d known Konrad was crippled before his father had found out – but he’d largely left her alone, while her mother had only given her a handful of chores to do when she got home from the university. In some ways, it was a relief, but she had a nasty feeling that the Reichmark was about to drop. How long would it be before her father started nagging her to find a husband – or presented her with a list of suitable candidates?
And Konrad was going to die.
She’d known he wasn’t going to recover completely, if he ever made it off the life support machine, but she’d dared to hope that they might have a life together. Now, she could no longer cling to the illusion. Konrad’s father would turn the machine off, once he actually found his son; he wouldn’t leave his son’s shattered mind trapped in a crippled body. It wasn’t fair, Gudrun’s thoughts mocked her; no one had seriously considered telling Grandpa Frank that it was time to die, to go on to the next world, even though he was a disgusting old man. But what had Konrad done to deserve such injuries? He’d been young and strong and the world was at his feet.
And it killed him, she thought, bitterly. How many times had he sat beside her on the bed, sneaking kisses despite the open door? She wasn’t sure she could bring herself to kiss anyone, ever again; she’d practically betrayed Konrad by kissing Horst, even though it had been in the heat of the moment. Konrad did everything right and he was still betrayed by his own government.
She wanted to sit up, she wanted to do something, but she couldn’t muster the energy to do anything more than lie on the bed. There were chores she needed to do, she was sure, and homework she needed to finish before going back to the university, yet it was so hard to focus her mind. If her father saw her latest set of marks, he’d blow a fuse; Gudrun knew, without false optimism, that her grades had slipped badly. And yet, between the knowledge of what had happened to Konrad and her own work with the leaflets, it was hard to focus on her studies. What sort of future did she have if nothing changed?
There was a tap on the door. She looked up. Her father was standing there, looking worried; Gudrun sat upright hastily and beckoned him into the room. She couldn’t keep her heart from pounding, although she was fairly sure she wasn’t in trouble. Her father rarely entered her room unless she was. It was her mother who normally inspected it each weekend and snapped at her to clean up her mess, place clean clothes in the drawers and wash her dirty outfits in the sink.