“I can’t,” Gudrun objected. She hadn’t taken off her clothes in front of a stranger since her last medical examination – and the doctor had been female. Even Konrad had never seen her naked. “I…”
“You can either undress on your own, in which case the clothing will eventually be returned to you, or you will be cuffed and your clothing will be cut away,” the policeman said. He didn’t show any hint of anticipation, but his companion was clearly looking forward to the display. Gudrun shivered as his eyes crawled over her body. “There will be no second chance to cooperate.”
“They’ll want to degrade you,” Horst had warned, back when he’d talked about how prisoners were treated. “They’ll want to make it clear that you are no longer in control of your own life.”
Gudrun shuddered. She’d never been allowed to wear something revealing, not even when she’d been at home. Tight jeans had shown off her curves, but not her bare skin… her cheeks burned with shame at the thought of being so exposed. And yet, she knew they weren’t joking. If they stripped her themselves, it would be far worse. Gritting her teeth, she undid her shirt slowly, trying to pretend that she was undressing for bed. She was damned if she was going to give them a strip show.
She was grimly aware of their gazes – one lustful, one cold and dispassionate – as she removed her trousers and stood in front of them, wearing only her bra and panties. Bracing herself, she slowly removed her last protections and stood naked in front of them. The policeman by the door was breathing heavily; she wanted to curse him, even as the policeman inspected her last few articles of clothing and dropped them into the box, covering her breasts with one hand and the crack between her legs with the other. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go; she wanted to cry, but she didn’t dare admit weakness. It would be disastrous.
“Hands on your head,” the policeman ordered.
Gudrun hated him in that moment, hated him with a helpless fury she hadn’t felt for anyone else, not even the worst of the BDM matrons. But she did as she was told, trying not to look at them studying her. She had never been so exposed in her entire life. Their eyes were trailing over her breasts, drinking in every detail. They had to know she was completely clean. Where could she hide anything now she’d been stripped naked?
“Turn around,” the policeman ordered, coldly. He rose to his feet and walked around the table. “Bend over and grab your ankles.”
Gudrun stared at him in disbelief, but there was no point in trying to argue. All she wanted was to get it over with as quickly as possible. She turned and bent over, grimly aware that they were seeing far too much of her. Cold hands gripped her buttocks and pulled them apart… she cringed, half-expecting to feel a finger poking up inside her most private parts, before she was released.
“Stand,” the policeman ordered. He was already walking back around the table, as if violating Gudrun’s most intimate parts was nothing. “Cuff her, then take her to the holding cell.”
It had been nothing, Gudrun realised, as the policeman snapped the cuffs back on, trapping her hands behind her back. They didn’t know who she was, or what she’d done; they were just showing off their power. It was crude, it was effective…
…And yet it had failed. They hadn’t broken her.
You don’t know who I am, she thought, as she was pushed into a small holding cell. She might be naked, she might be cuffed, but she felt as though she had won. You don’t know who I am and that means I still have a chance.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Berlin, Germany
12 August 1985
“Ah, there you are,” Frau Morgenstern said, as Hilde stepped into the room. “I trust you are ready to go out?”
Hilde looked up, surprised. “Mother?”
“They’re arresting children on the streets,” Frau Morgenstern said, tartly. “Children who could be you, if things were different. Something has to be done.”
She went on before Hilde could say a word. “I’m heading straight to Silgan’s house,” she added. “The telephones are no longer working, so I want you to take a note to several others. We’re going out onto the streets in protest.”
“Mother,” Hilde protested. “You could wind up in jail…”
“So could you,” her mother said. “This is the one chance we have to make our voices heard, to ally ourselves with others who want change. And so I’m leading the way onto the streets.”
She picked up a sheet of paper and started to scribble a quick note. Hilde stared at her, unable to quite believe what was happening. Her mother had been holding dozens of meetings, some more civilised than others, but it was hard to imagine her bossy mother leading a small army of women onto the street like common workers. And yet, her mother had been outraged at the suggestion she was still under her husband’s thumb. The chance to insist on greater rights for women was not to be missed.
“Once you’ve delivered the note, I want you to come straight back home and wait,” Frau Morgenstern added, as she folded the sheet of paper and passed it to Hilde. “You are not to go onto the streets yourself or leave the house for any reason at all. The maids will take care of you until your father comes home.”
Hilde swallowed. She had no idea what her father would say, if he discovered his wife was leading the protests on the street, but she had a nasty feeling he’d take it out on her. He couldn’t stand up to his formidable wife, after all. Hilde had no idea why her father had even married her mother, unless there was money and a name involved somewhere. His career had probably benefited from her mother’s quiet politicking on his behalf. Maybe it had benefited enough for him not to want to discard his wife.
“I understand,” she said, finally. “Be careful…”
“They won’t shoot us,” Frau Morgenstern said, firmly. “Each and every one of the women in the group has a powerful husband or family.”
“Yeah,” Hilde said. “Just make sure the police know that.”
She glanced at the note – it was nothing more than a handful of lines, telling the recipients to assemble at the predetermined spot – and headed for the door. There hadn’t been any incidents in their part of Berlin, as far as she knew, but that was about to change. God alone knew what would happen when the wealthy and powerful women started marching in support of the strikers – and their list of demands.
Bitterly, half-wishing she’d never heard of Gudrun or allowed herself to be lured into the Valkyries, she hurried though the door and down the drive to the gates. She could be arrested, if the police saw her on the streets; she could be taken into the RSHA and tortured until she confessed everything. The emergency broadcasts had taken over everything, even the handful of privately-owned television sets. There was no excuse for being caught outside the home. But the thought of her mother’s anger – and her own position – drove her on.
They won’t be patrolling the streets here, she told herself, hoping desperately that she was right. Her father’s house – it was effectively a mansion – was in the safest part of the city, where the wealthy and powerful lived. The men who owned these houses were among the chief supporters of the regime. They’ll be sending the police to the industrial zones…