Storm Front

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Reichstag, Germany

22 August 1985

“Using Herr Krueger is a gamble,” Gudrun said.

Beside her, Horst nodded in agreement. He’d appointed himself Gudrun’s bodyguard as soon as she’d been given an ill-defined role within the very provisional government, rather than trying to obtain a high office for himself. Given his role, which was probably included in one of the files taken from the RSHA, he’d felt it would be better if he avoided attracting attention. Gudrun didn’t seem concerned about his former masters, but not everyone would take the matter so lightly.

“Yes, it is,” Volker Schulze agreed. He turned to stare out of the window at the afternoon sky, then looked back at them. “Using any of the Reich Council is a gamble. But we don’t have many other experienced people.”

Horst had to admit he had a point. The provisional government was slowly making contact with military bases and police stations outside Berlin, trying to build up a picture of just what was happening, and it was becoming alarmingly clear that a great many senior officers were dead or sitting on the sidelines. Thankfully, the SS hadn’t quite realised just how much the Heer had focused on training its soldiers to use their initiative. SS troopers had killed senior officers, only to be killed themselves by junior officers, NCOs and ordinary soldiers. But it had created a horrible mess that wouldn’t be solved in a hurry.

“We can’t trust him,” Gudrun said, slowly. “Can we?”

“He hasn’t enriched himself excessively,” Schulze said. “I believe he has the best interests of the Reich at heart – and, right now, those include a peaceful transfer of power.”

“I hope you’re right,” Gudrun said. “Has there been anything from Germany East?”

“Nothing,” Schulze said. He smiled, rather tightly. “But apparently there have been a few mutinies in South Africa. The SS dropped the ball rather badly.”

Horst wasn’t so pleased. The troops in South Africa were unlikely to side with the SS, but they’d be reluctant to fight the Waffen-SS. They’d been fighting beside them for the last two years, after all. But it probably didn’t matter. Getting the troops back to the Reich would take far longer than they had, he suspected. The impending civil war would be fought with what weapons and manpower both sides had on hand. Thankfully, Schulze’s union included hundreds of men with military experience and there were thousands more in Berlin – and hundreds of thousands in Germany Prime.

“I may need you to speak to the French,” Schulze added. “And the Italians. God alone knows which way they’ll jump.”

“Offer them their political freedom,” Gudrun said. “Trade that for them staying quiet for the next few months.”

Schulze looked uncomfortable. “They’ll want parts of Germany Prime too.”

Horst nodded, sourly. Occupied France had been annexed, to all intents and purposes; native Frenchmen had been driven out and replaced with German settlers. If the provisional government tried to return the territory to France, there would be another outbreak of civil war. But the French would never forgive the Germans for keeping their land.

“We can sort that out after the war,” Gudrun said. “Can’t we?”

“Perhaps,” Schulze said. “But they’d have to be fools not to take advantage of our weakness to demand concessions. Their government is so unstable that it might go under any day now.”

He dismissed Gudrun. Horst followed her back to her office, then smiled as she closed and locked the door. But Gudrun seemed to have something else on her mind.

She met his eyes. “Does he have to worry about the French?”

“The government in Berlin, no matter who runs it, has to worry about the French,” Horst said, thoughtfully. “They’re not going to go away.”

“No,” Gudrun agreed, after a moment. “But we’re not going to go away either.”

Horst settled back in his chair as she returned to her desk and went to work. It was astonishing just how much paperwork was involved in forming a new government, particularly when very few of the people involved had any experience at all. Schulze, at least, had founded and run a union for a few weeks before becoming the leader of the provisional government. Gudrun had nothing more than theory and his advice to guide her.

“You might want to watch Voss,” Horst advised, when she read through his file. “He was always ambitious.”

“That’s the problem,” Gudrun agreed. She yawned suddenly. “Everyone who climbed to the top in the old government was ambitious.”

“Time for you to get some rest,” Horst said. He rose and held out a hand. “You can sleep in the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You take this bodyguard job too seriously,” Gudrun said, rising. A faint blush coloured her cheeks as she checked her watch. “I could stay up for longer…”

“It’s nearly midnight,” Horst said, firmly. “It’s time for you to go to bed.”

He concealed his amusement with an effort as they headed up to the residence level and walked down towards Gudrun’s suite. Her entire family was currently living in the Reichstag, along with the families of several other rebel leaders. Horst was surprised she’d managed to wrangle herself a separate suite, but he had to admit it was a relief. He knew her father would have made a fuss if he knew he was sharing a room with her, even if they weren’t sharing a bed.

“You know,” Gudrun said, as they entered her suite and closed the door, “you need a shower.”

Horst blinked. “I do?”

“Yes, you do,” Gudrun said. She pointed to the door leading into the bathroom. “Get in there.”

Horst did as he was told. Moments later, she joined him – and, when he turned to face her, wrapped him in a hug and kissed him as hard as she could.

Hauptsturmfuehrer Arul Falkenhayn braced himself as the helicopters swept over Berlin, heading directly towards the Reichstag. Night had fallen – half the city was in darkness – but he doubted they could maintain the advantage of surprise for very long. There was no such thing, despite American propaganda, as a truly silent helicopter. The rebels would have to be deaf as well as dumb not to hear them coming.

He glanced at his men, suited up and ready to go, and braced himself. He’d have felt better if the entire battalion had been prepping itself to jump into hell, but he only had twenty-one commandos and three helicopters under his command. The fourth helicopter had developed a fault that had proven maddeningly impossible to trace, let alone fix, before the mission had to be launched. There was no way to know if it was just another example of the Demon Murphy striking at the worst possible time or deliberate sabotage. Arul knew himself and his men to be loyal to the Reich – they’d planned to jump into Pretoria, after all – but the ground crews might not feel the same way. One of them might just have been cunning enough to do something to a helicopter and get away with it.

“Ten seconds,” the Strumscharfuehrer shouted. “Get ready!”

Arul stood, grabbed hold of the rappelling line, and prepared to dive out to meet his destiny.

Gudrun lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

She honestly wasn’t sure why she’d given herself to Horst. He was everything she wanted in a man – strong, capable and understanding – and yet, she hadn’t been taught to be so forward as to invite a man into her bed. She had wanted him, and she was sure he wanted her, and yet part of her knew their relationship had just changed for good. Konrad had wanted to go further than they had, she knew, and yet she’d been reluctant to commit herself to him completely. Now…

But the world has changed, she thought. Konrad and I thought we would have a whole life together. Now… Horst and I may not survive the month.

It scared her, scared her more than the sharp pain and blood when he’d gone inside her for the first time or the dull awareness that he could easily have gotten her pregnant. They’d overthrown a government! The Reich, a government that had endured since Adolf Hitler had taken supreme power, had been broken. There was no going back. And there was no future if they lost, either. Perhaps that was why she’d finally given in to temptation. What was the point in waiting for marriage, or at least parental approval, when they might be dead within a month?

She twisted her head to look at Horst, sleeping on the bed. There was no SS tattoo marring his skin, unsurprisingly; he’d have some trouble explaining one if he’d ever managed to get naked with a student. He was strong… but then, Konrad had been strong too. No wonder he’d always worn loose clothes, she thought. Students were not expected to exercise regularly, unlike boys in the Hitler Youth, but Horst was still more muscular than the average university student. Someone might have been suspicious if they’d seen him shirtless…

Horst jerked awake as the alarms began to ring, one hand grabbing for the pistol he’d left on her bedside table. Gudrun rolled over and out of bed, cursing her own nakedness as she searched for the light switch. She didn’t want to run out of the room without even a pair of panties… she clicked on the switch, then grabbed for her dressing gown. It was better than nothing.

“Turn off the light,” Horst snapped, jumping to his feet and running around the bed. His gaze snapped upwards as shots rang out over their heads. “We have to get to the lower levels.”

He caught her hand, holding his pistol in the other, and dragged her towards the door. She wanted to tell him to put some clothes on, but she was suddenly very – very- afraid. The SS had managed to mount a counterattack, even though the military officers had believed it to be impossible. Berlin was heavily defended, after all…

“They’re not trying to retake the building,” Horst muttered, as he opened the door. His thoughts must have been running along the same lines. “They couldn’t have put together a large force or it would have been a great deal louder. They’re just trying to kill as many of us as possible.”

“Just,” Gudrun repeated. The building shook, violently. Dust drifted down from the ceiling. “What do we do?”

“Get out of the firing line,” Horst said. He didn’t seem troubled by his nakedness, even though doors were opening all the way down the corridor. “Move it!”

Arul knew there was no point in playing games, not when the element of surprise was rapidly slipping away. The helicopters swept their machine guns across the rooftop, wiping out the guards before they could put up a fight, as the commandos dropped down to the roof. He silently saluted the designers – the layer of armour under the stone had resisted the bullets effortlessly – as a missile slammed into the hatch, opening a pathway into the Reichstag. A second later, another missile lanced towards one of the helicopters, which exploded with staggering force. Thankfully, its complement of commandos were already on the roof and heading into the building.

No hope of escape now, Arul thought, as he heard the chatter-chatter-chatter of machine guns, deeper and heavier than the weapons mounted on the helicopters. The forces on the streets had responded with remarkable speed, despite the confusion. But then, this was always a suicide mission.

He cursed under his breath as he threw a grenade ahead of him, hastily recalling the building plans he’d seen. There hadn’t been any time to plan a proper operation, let alone gain the intelligence they needed; they’d been forced to decide, eventually, that all they could do was storm the building and kill everyone they met. There was no way they could escape, not once the enemy was alerted. All they could do was kill as many people as they could before they were wiped out themselves.

And at least we’re coming in through the roof, he thought, tossing another grenade into a doorway as they ran past. Most of their forces are down on the ground.

A pair of soldiers appeared at the far end of the corridor, weapons at the ready. Arul fired a long burst from his rifle, then hurled a grenade as more soldiers appeared. Clearly, the enemy had anticipated a helicopter attack… although, if they had, why hadn’t they cleared the Reichstag instead of turning it into their headquarters? Who gave a damn about the symbolic value of the building Hitler and Speer had designed if the rebel government was wiped out?

“Franz is hit,” the Strumscharfuehrer snapped. “Albus is dead.”

Arul nodded, then hurried onwards. There was no point in worrying about the wounded – they’d all be dead, soon enough. He heard someone screaming over the racket and glanced through a door. A woman was lying on the bed, staring at the body of her husband and screaming; a young boy sat next to her, his face in shock. Arul shot them both and moved on, leaving the room behind. They were rebels or related to rebels. Either way, they had been sentenced to death.

“Get further down the stairs,” he ordered. The rebels would be confused, but if they’d done any planning at all they’d either be sealing themselves in the panic rooms or trying to get out of the building. “Try and cut them off.”

Frank Reinecke had been having a nightmare when the alarms went off. He jerked awake, so dazed and confused that it took him several moments to remember that he was in the Reichstag, after Gudrun had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. There was no way he could ever wash the blood from his hands – he would have killed himself, if he hadn’t feared the fires of hell – but at least the government had been toppled. And yet, it seemed the government wasn’t dead after all. Frank had never really been a combat soldier – the Einsatzgruppen had rarely been called upon to do more than slaughter defenceless victims – yet he had no trouble recognising the sound of a firefight. It was hard to be sure – he’d been going deaf over the last three decades – but it sounded very much as though the enemy were heading down from the roof.

Grabbing his cane in one hand and his service revolver in the other – he’d kept it ever since he’d left the Einsatzgruppen, despite his daughter’s objections – he staggered towards the door and out into chaos.

Gudrun was never quite sure what hit her. One moment, she’d been running down the corridor with Horst; the next, she’d been picked up by… something… and hurled into the wall. She banged her head hard enough to stun her, leaving her dazed and confused as she fell to the ground. Somehow, she managed to twist around, just in time to see a pair of black-clad figures running towards her. They’d seen her move. It was too late to play dead…

She closed her eyes and waited.

Arul didn’t feel any guilt as he saw the half-naked girl on the floor, even though she was young enough to be his daughter. Like everyone else in the Reichstag, she was either a rebel or related to a rebel; he had no compunctions about gunning her down as casually as he’d killed his other targets. He walked towards her, intending to crush her neck and save the bullet he would have wasted on her, then looked up as he saw a man staggering out into the hallway. Just for a second, Arul stared in disbelief. The man was old, leaning heavily on a cane…

…And carrying a pistol in one hand.

The moment of hesitation proved fatal. Arul heard the Strumscharfuehrer grunt in pain as the old man opened fire, bending over as the first bullet slammed into his chest and the second smashed his goggles, slamming right through them and into his brain. The Strumscharfuehrer was dead before he hit the ground. Arul shouted in rage, pointing his rifle at the old man and pulling the trigger. He could have sworn he saw a smile on the man’s face before three bullets struck his body, sending him falling to the ground. What did he have to smile about?

He turned back to the girl and – too late – found out.

Horst had been knocked ass over teakettle by the blast – a grenade, he thought – but he’d managed to keep hold of his pistol as the commandos ran up behind him. They’d been looking at Gudrun – she’d been too dazed by the impact to play dead – and he’d been bracing himself to intervene when Frank Reinecke, of all people, had appeared and opened fire, killing one of the SS commandos. Horst sat upright, despite the aches and pains, and took aim at the other commando. The man had no time to react before Horst fired, putting a bullet through his mask and into his brain.

He staggered to his hands and knees and crawled over to Gudrun. She was almost certainly in shock – there was a nasty bruise on the side of her head – and staring at the remains of her grandfather, mumbling to herself. Horst wasn’t sure if she liked him or not, but he’d given his life to save hers. That, at least, deserved recognition.

“It’s all right,” he said, wrapping an arm around her. The sound of shooting was slowly dying away, although he knew that jumpy soldiers would be firing at shadows for the next few hours. “They can’t hurt you any longer.”

But, in all honesty, he wasn’t sure if that were true.