Black Cross

36

While Anna was gone, McConnell and Stern had sat in the cellar for an hour, then had grown so anxious they came up to the kitchen and ate some moldy cheese in the darkness. Every minute or so Stern would go to the front window to check the road for approaching vehicles. They heard a motorcycle once, but it turned out to be only an SS man headed into Dornow. When Anna finally did arrive, they never heard her coming. She simply opened the door and stepped inside the dark foyer.

Stern switched on the kitchen light.

She stood in the kitchen door, her blond hair tangled and plastered to her cheeks, her overcoat soaked through as if she had fallen a dozen times in the snow. She shivered uncontrollably.

McConnell jumped up and steadied her. “Put on some coffee,” he told Stern.

Stern didn’t move. “What happened?” he asked. “What did they want you for?”

Anna’s eyes seemed out of focus. “It’s over,” she mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Stern grabbed his Schmeisser off the counter. “They know we’re here?”

“I don’t know. But Schörner caught the Wojiks.”

“Oh God,” McConnell murmured. “Did you walk back here?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus.”

“Schörner?” said Stern. “Schörner isn’t Scarlett?”

Anna shook her head.

“Well . . . did they get the message to Sweden?”

“No.”

“No? No message? No air raid?”

“No.”

“Scheisse! Have the Poles talked yet? How long has Schörner had them?”

“They haven’t talked,” Anna said, half-turning as McConnell pulled off her wet overcoat.

“How do you know?” Stern pressed.

“They can’t.”

“What do you mean? They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

“What about the note? My note to Smith.”

“Stan got rid of it before they were taken.”

“How do you know that?”

“Miklos told me.”

“You talked to them?”

“Only Miklos. Stan was already dead. Tortured.”

“Tortured? Then how do you know he didn’t talk?”

Anna finally focused on Stern. “Because Miklos told me,” she said, her nostrils flaring in anger. “And because I knew Stan Wojik. He was tough. Tougher than you will ever be, Herr Stern. He hated the Nazis. He hated them so much he lived in the forest like an animal to fight them. You think the Jews are the only ones who have suffered in this war?”

“What about the other one?” Stern asked, undeterred. “The thin one. He was tortured as well? He didn’t look so tough.”

“He was, though. Tough enough to ask me to kill him.”

McConnell and Stern looked at each other.

Anna spoke without inflection, certain now that events were beyond her power to change. “Hauptscharführer Sturm killed Stan before they ever reached the camp. A Gestapo man from Peenemünde was on his way to Totenhausen to question Miklos. Schörner told me to clean him up for questioning. We were alone. Miklos told me he knew he would talk if they tortured him like they had Stan. He said . . . he said he knew he was weak.”

“He asked you to kill him?” Stern said.

“Yes.” Anna touched her cheek as if to reassure herself she was really alive. “I refused at first. But then I realized what it would mean if he talked.”

“You did it?” said McConnell.

She nodded listlessly. “Six cc’s of morphia in the femoral vein.”

McConnell lifted his hand to comfort her, but she drew back.

“Did you see him die?” Stern asked.

“I saw him go into coma.”

Stern turned to McConnell. “Would that kill him? Morphia?”

“A full grain in the femoral vein would almost certainly do it. Respiratory arrest, then death.”

“How is it you are here, then?” Stern asked, his voice harsh and relentless. “You killed a prisoner and they just let you walk out?”

“Stop interrogating her,” said McConnell.

“You realize they could be outside right now?” Stern moved quickly to the window. “You damn fool! She could have led Schörner right to us!”

“See anything?” McConnell asked sarcastically.

“It’s too dark.”

“I know I should have stayed,” Anna said, finally pushing her hair out of her eyes. “But I couldn’t do it. I might have gone mad right in front of Schörner. I told the guard that Miklos’s heart was weak, that I’d done all I could do. I told him Schörner could send for me if he needed me again.”

“Stupid,” Stern muttered from the window. “Blöd! Schörner is bound to send someone after you.”

“I don’t care,” Anna whispered. “I just don’t care anymore.”

“You’d better care. Or you’ll be dead.”

“But I don’t. Don’t you see? I just killed a friend. A boy, really. I murdered him! No one should be asked to do that. No one!”

“It’s war,” Stern said flatly.

“War?” Anna started around the table toward him. “What do you know about war?” she asked.

McConnell watched in amazement as the German nurse put both hands on Stern’s chest and shoved him backward against the sink.

“What have you done?” she demanded. “Talk, that’s what! Talk, talk, talk. I’m sick of your talking. If you think the SS are coming, get your ass up that hill. Go on! Gas the whole camp! Kill all the prisoners, I don’t care. I dare you to do it!”

The blood drained out of Anna’s face. When she wobbled on her feet, McConnell reached out and pulled her to him.

She allowed it.

“Jonas,” he said softly, “I think we’ve reached the point where we may have to consider that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What do you think I’m talking about?”

Stern turned back to the window and made as if he were watching the road. “But we agreed to try to save the prisoners.”

“You’d better hurry,” Anna said into McConnell’s chest. “They shot ten more while I was there.”

“What?” Stern whirled from the window and stared at her like a man steeling himself to take a bullet. “Who did they shoot?”

Anna raised her head. “Five Jewish women and five Polish men.”

Stern blinked several times, his relief obvious. “But why did they shoot these people?”

“Schörner knows something is going on at the camp. At first he thought the parachutes and the rest of it had to do with Peenemünde. But not anymore. On top of everything else, they seem to have lost an SS patrol.”

McConnell raised his head and caught Stern’s eye.

Anna laid her hand on his chest as if to thank him, then straightened up and went to the sideboard and lit three short candles. It was easy to forget that the electric light could draw unwanted attention. “Schörner really called me to the camp so he could question me,” she said. “He thinks someone on the camp staff is a traitor, either a nurse or a lab technician. It’s Sturm who is pressing for the execution of prisoners — his way of rooting out the leak.”

When Anna went to the stove to brew a pot of the awful barley coffee, McConnell decided she was all right, at least for the moment. He turned one of the chairs around and sat with his forearms resting on its back, the way the old guys did on porches back home. “Listen, Stern,” he said quietly, “God knows I didn’t come here to kill innocent people. But the things I’ve learned since I’ve been here . . . I’m starting to understand why the British tried this crazy bluff. We tried to save the prisoners. We did everything we could. Hell, two good men died trying to help us. But we’ve got to face facts now. We failed. We failed, and there’s nothing to do but go back to the original plan.”

Stern looked furtively around the kitchen. “I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“What do you want to do? Run for the coast? Go for the sub and leave this Nazi death machine ticking along like a Swiss watch?”

Stern actually seemed to be considering this. “You want a sample of Soman, Doctor? I can get you one tonight. I’ll walk right into that factory and draw off a canister myself. Get me one of the mini-cylinders out of your bag.”

McConnell turned up his palms in confusion. “What the hell is going on here, Stern? You know that isn’t the main objective of this mission. We’re supposed to convince the Germans that we have our own nerve gas and the will to use it.”

Stern dropped his Schmeisser on the counter and sat down at the table. “Do you have the will to use it, Doctor? Do you have the will to kill every man, woman, and child in that camp?”

“God help me, I think I do,” McConnell said, thinking of Anna’s diary. “Until last night, I don’t think I really believed the Nazis would use Sarin or Soman. But now . . . there’s no doubt in my mind. You think I like admitting Smith is right? He’s a devious, manipulative son of a bitch. But given what I know now, I believe this mission — or one like it — is probably the only chance of stopping the Nazis from using Sarin and Soman.”

“What’s turned you so bloodthirsty all of a sudden? Yesterday you were a goddamn pacifist. What’s in that diary, anyway?”

Anna turned from the stove, her eyes on McConnell.

“I showed it to him,” he confessed. “Stern, that diary describes something I never thought possible.”

“What? The systematic murder of thousands of Jews?”

“No. That’s bad enough, but it’s been done before. All through history, in fact. What’s different about what the Nazis are doing is that they’ve put the doctors in charge. They’ve succeeded in inverting human values so completely that they’ve transformed the healers into the chief killers.”

Stern made a wry face. “You think doctors killing people is somehow different than other men doing it?”

“Yes. A doctor is sworn to preserve life. Do no harm — that’s the first rule. A doctor who murders is worse than a priest who murders. Popes and priests have presided over some of the worst carnage in history. But intentional mass murder in the name of medicine? I’ve never heard of it before. Hitler’s propaganda machine has instilled a sort of bio-political mentality in the German people. He’s convinced them that certain races — yours, for example — are deadly bacilli that must be eradicated. There is apparently a whole generation of German doctors that actually believes it is healing the body politic by killing millions of people. You once lectured me about evil, Stern. Well, I’m convinced, okay? If there is pure evil in the world, the Nazis have achieved it.”

Stern’s laugh held bitter irony. “Words,” he said. “You’re an intellectual, so you have to draw some grand meaning from everything. What did I tell you the first time I saw you? The Nazis understand the true nature of man. They deal with what is. They took the lust for power and turned it into a religion. And it works! It could work anywhere, Doctor, even in America. I’ll bet some of your colleagues would line up for the chance to say who should live and who should die. It’s fun playing God.”

“No it isn’t, Stern. You know that. But I’m afraid we’ve got to do it tonight.”

When Stern did not respond, McConnell said, “Hitler hasn’t unleashed man’s true nature. He’s taken such a huge leap into madness that even now no one has begun to grasp what’s really going on. But we know, Stern. And that obligates us to try to do something about it.”

“But you said the British nerve gas won’t even work!”

“It might work. We have to try.”

Stern threw up his hands. “Go ahead then! You try!”

“I will if I have to. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on here? You came to Germany ready to sacrifice yourself and anyone else to accomplish this mission. Now you’re balking. For the last two days you’ve been ready to believe the gas worked. Now you’re not. Something changed last night, Jonas. What was it? What are you keeping from me?”

“You’re crazy,” snapped Stern. He got up and started pacing the kitchen, the muscles in his forearms taut as wires.

“Maybe I am,” McConnell conceded. “But I’ll be less crazy if you just tell me why you won’t go through with the attack.”

“Tell him,” Anna said from the stove. “Or I will.”

Stern stopped dead and stared at her. After a moment, his eyes glazed with hatred. “You tell him and I’ll kill you.”

“You go to hell!” she shouted, fearless in her anger. “Or act like a man! That would be better!”

Something seemed to go out of Stern then. Hope, maybe, or the will to keep lying. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the sideboard, blocking the light from one of the candles.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

Anna’s voice softened. “The night you got here, you said you were from Rostock. When I heard your real name I thought of the shoemaker, just for an instant. But you were so different—”

“Different how? What do you know about him?”

“Well . . . he repairs boots for the SS. Makes leather goods for them.”

“Are you saying he’s a collaborator?”

“No. Just that you seemed so different from him. Different enough that I dismissed the idea for a while. But yesterday I saw him up close again. Then I knew.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” McConnell asked. “You know somebody in that camp?”

“My father,” Stern said, his voice almost inaudible. “My father is a prisoner in the camp, okay? He’s been there for three years.”

McConnell looked at Anna and saw the confirmation in her eyes. “Jesus, why didn’t you tell me before now? All you had to do—”

Stern held up a hand for silence. “I have discovered that I’m a coward, Doctor. Not a pleasant thing. You were right, I was ready to sacrifice them all. Then I found out my father was one of the prisoners and I couldn’t do it. It’s pathetic.”

“It’s human, Stern.”

“You are also right,” Stern said to Anna. “He and I are different. But it is my duty to try to save him. For my mother.”

“For yourself, goddamn it!” said McConnell. “Why don’t you just slip in and take him out tonight? I have no doubt you could do it.”

“He won’t come. He’s crazy. He won’t leave the others behind.”

No one spoke for a while. McConnell stared at one of the candles, going back over the situation yet again. He blanked the people from his mind and tried to see it as a purely scientific problem, from every possible angle no matter how unlikely. Three minutes later he felt the hair on his arms rise.

“Anna, get me a pencil and paper,” he said. “Hurry, please.”

“What is it?” Stern asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just be quiet for a minute.” McConnell took the things from Anna and began scratching numbers and letters on the paper. Stern walked around and peered over his shoulder.

“What the hell is that?”

“Dalton’s Law of Partial Pressures. You want to make a contribution or you want to be quiet?”

Stern scowled and moved away. Two minutes later, McConnell set down the pencil. “All right, listen,” he said. “If you’re willing to go back into that camp tonight, we can save your father.”

Stern came back and stood over him. “How?”

“By doing what Anna originally suggested. Moving the prisoners into the E-Block before the attack. It’s an insane risk for you — for all of us, really — but . . . well, it’s your decision.”

Anna looked at him in confusion. “But all of the prisoners won’t fit into the E-Block.”

“That’s right,” said McConnell. “All of them won’t.”

“But half of them will,” Stern said softly.

“It’s the only option, Stern. That or run.”

“Playing God,” Anna said.

“My father would never agree to be among the saved,” Stern said, almost to himself. “He would give up his place to a woman or child.”

“I’m afraid that’s what it’s going to come down to,” McConnell told him. “Depending on who makes the final decision, of course.”

“What do you mean? How many people can fit in there?”

“Anna said the chamber was three meters by three, and two meters high.” He looked at her. “Right?”

She nodded. “After we talked about it, I checked a test record to see if I was right. I was.”

“That’s eighteen cubic meters of total space.” McConnell looked down at his sheet. “Six hundred and fifty cubic feet to me.”

“You can squeeze a lot of bodies into that,” Stern said. “Especially underfed bodies.”

McConnell nodded patiently. “If it were merely a question of space. But it’s not. It’s a question of oxygen.”

“Eighteen cubic meters of air won’t support everyone we can fit in there?”

“Not for long. Those movies you’ve seen, where ten men get trapped in a sealed bank vault or a gold mine and spend two days trying to figure out a way to get out?”

“Yes?”

“They’re so much Scheisse, okay? Think about it like this. I tie a paper bag over your head. That’s all the air you have. How long can you survive on that?”

“Not very long.”

“Right. And that’s all the E-Block is — a big paper bag. Only it’s made of steel. You’ve got one hundred square feet of floor space. That sounds big, but believe me, it’s not. You could probably force a hundred malnourished women and children inside. However, every single body that goes in displaces a certain amount of air from the chamber, reducing the available oxygen.”

“Damn it, how many people can survive in there?”

“That depends on who goes in.” McConnell picked up his pencil. “How does the inmate population break down?”

“There are six barracks buildings,” Anna said. “Two for men, two for women, two for children. There are two for each because the Jews are separated from the other prisoners.”

“Privileged as usual,” Stern muttered.

“Normally there would be fifty persons in each barracks,” Anna went on, “totalling three hundred. But Brandt has had trouble replenishing the ranks. The Jewish Men’s Block has less than fifteen men in it. Both children’s barracks are nearly full, and the Jewish Women’s Block just under that. The Christian Women’s Block is under quota. After the reprisals, the total camp population is probably about two hundred and twenty.”

“I counted forty-eight women in the Jewish Women’s Block,” Stern said. “But they’ve shot five since then.”

McConnell picked up his pencil and began scratching again.

“Figure for forty-five women and fifty children,” Stern said. “We could fit that many inside — physically I mean.”

McConnell looked up, “I know what you’re telling me. Just give me a minute, please. These are big numbers. Total milliliters of air . . . oxygen percentages total and consumed . . . that’s per kilogram per minute . . . a pediatric figure . . . Christ . . . mmm . . . okay. I’ve got it.”

“How many?”

McConnell set down his pencil. “Assuming forty-five women and fifty children, the available oxygen would last one hundred and two minutes. That’s only a guess, but it’s a solid guess.”

“One hour and forty-two minutes,” Anna said. “Is that long enough?”

“Frankly, I don’t think so. Smith’s scientists planned this attack with only eight cylinders. That suggests a gas on the order of Sarin, which I’m certain it was copied from. If the British gas works, lethal amounts could persist for as long as four hours, maybe even longer.”

“Four hours is too long,” said Stern. “SS reinforcements could arrive from somewhere else.”

McConnell considered this factor. SS reinforcements could be as deadly as Sarin if they weren’t killed by the gas. “We must pare the numbers down to allow for two hours of oxygen. No less.”

“Numbers?” Stern echoed. “You’re talking about people!”

“I know that,” McConnell said evenly. “The one hundred and twenty-five I already excluded from the equation are people too. They’re just not Jews.”

For once, Stern did not lose his self-control when faced with an unpalatable truth. “What’s wrong with the fucking Nazis all of a sudden?” he grumbled. “They usually build everything twice as big as anyone else.”

“The gases Brandt tests in the E-Block are the most toxic in the world,” Anna explained. “Sometimes they run several tests in a day. The E-Block was designed small enough to be cleaned thoroughly and quickly with steam and detergents. The whole process is automated.”

“It’s just a bigger version of the Bubble back in my lab,” said McConnell.

“Bubble?”

“I remember,” said Stern. “Except you use rats. They use people. So tell me, how many people can survive for two hours in Brandt’s bubble?”

“You want to save all the children or all the women?”

“My God,” Anna whispered. “You have no right to do this.”

“You’re right,” McConnell agreed. “But I am doing it.”

“Kinder,” said Stern. “Save the children.”

“But the children must have someone to take care of them when they come out,” Anna argued.

“Women use more air,” said Stern. “There’ll be enough women left to take care of the children. Take out women.”

McConnell carefully recalculated his equation. “If you took out ten women,” he said, “the oxygen would last one hundred and nineteen minutes. Almost exactly two hours. If you want my opinion, I’d take out twenty women. It’s horrible, I know, but by trying to save too many we could kill them all.”

“Wait!” Anna cut in. “What about an oxygen bottle?”

McConnell’s eyebrows went up. “Oxygen bottle? Depending on the type, it could make a significant difference.”

“There are several large tanks in the factory, in case of accidents. I can’t get access to those, but in the hospital we have two portable bottles. I don’t know the exact amount of oxygen in them, but I think I could steal one. The other is being used on a pneumonia case, an SS private. It would be missed immediately.”

Stern was nodding excitedly. “At least that would let us save all the women, yes? Maybe even the few men—”

McConnell held up his hand. “There’s another concern here. These time limits I’m giving you are for total oxygen depletion. That means death. Before that there would be episodes of hysteria, fainting, possibly some violence. You’re talking about terrified women and children packed inside a sealed chamber, probably without lights. They could be tearing out each other’s eyes after an hour, trampling the children, God knows what. You understand?”

“You’re saying don’t increase the numbers at all?”

“I’m saying we should count that oxygen bottle as a reserve. There’s no guarantee we can even get it into the E-Block. On top of that, these people may have to stay inside the chamber three or four hours before it’s safe to come out.”

Stern nodded in resignation.

“Can we even get the E-Block open?” McConnell asked.

“It’s always open,” Anna said. “Who would want to go inside it?”

“Point taken. Okay, Jonas, I think you should go back in right now, tonight. You’ve got about three hours of darkness left. Talk to your father, explain the situation, tell him to start slipping people into the E-Block just before dawn. That’s when we’ll attack.”

Stern laughed. “Doctor, you may know chemistry, but you know nothing about military tactics.” He sat down at the table and picked up McConnell’s pencil. “What do you think is going to happen after this attack of ours? Where are these women and children going to go?”

“Where were they going to go if we saved them all? This isn’t Hollywood, Stern. We can give those people a fighting chance. That’s more than what they have now. Maybe they can make a run for Poland, try to reach the Resistance.”

“You obviously don’t know that half the Polish resistance groups will kill a Jew as quickly as a Nazi will.”

“Goddamn it, Stern—”

“No, you’re right, Doctor. They’ll have to try for Poland. But they can’t do that in the daylight. Women and children in stolen SS trucks crossing fifty miles of Nazi Germany by day? You’re crazy! I don’t fancy trying to find our British submarine in the daylight myself. Also, if I sneak back into the camp tonight — which might not be so easy, considering what Fräulein Kaas just did there — I’ve got damn little time to convince my father or those women to condemn their friends to death, then sneak out of the camp, up the hill, and send down the gas.” Stern tossed the pencil on the table. “No, it’s got to be tomorrow night.” He turned to Anna. “What time is the final roll call?”

“Seven p.m.”

“Then we’ll attack at eight. The confusion will be much greater for the SS at night, and we’ll have hours of darkness to escape.”

“You realize that tomorrow night will be the fourth night we’ve been here,” McConnell reminded him. “If we don’t make it to the submarine by dawn the next day, it won’t be there.”

“We’ll make it.”

“And what about the gas? It could be degrading into harmless chemicals right now. And the reprisals. What if they shoot ten more people tomorrow? What about your—”

Stern slapped the table. “Shut up, goddamn you! I’ve made my decision. If you’d ever seen unarmed people hunted down by troops in the daylight, you’d know why.”

McConnell hesitated, but reluctantly nodded his assent. “We’ll just have to pray Schörner doesn’t close the net on us by tomorrow night,” he said. “But what about Anna? She can’t go back into Totenhausen after what she did tonight.”

Anna closed her eyes. “If I don’t, they’ll know something’s wrong.”

“They already know! They must. You killed Miklos and kept them from interrogating him.”

“Maybe they don’t know that,” said Stern. “The SS had already roughed him up. She told the guard Wojik’s heart was weak. Maybe they think he just died.”

“I’ve also got to get that oxygen bottle into the E-Block,” Anna reminded them.

McConnell started to argue further, but she cut him off by asking Stern a question. “Do you think your father will consent to go into the E-Block?”

“With the way the numbers have worked out, I very much doubt it.” Stern stood up and leaned against the stove for warmth.

“You must persuade him. Perhaps he would agree to lead the women and children to Poland?”

“He might. I’ve got all day tomorrow to think of something.” Stern snapped his fingers. “There is one thing I can do tonight, though.” He walked around the table and disappeared through the cellar door.

Anna took McConnell’s hand under the table and squeezed it. “You are a strange man,” she said.

Stern came back up the stairs carrying his leather bag.

“What’s that for?” asked McConnell.

“The two cylinders we were going to put in the SS bomb shelter. If we’re going back to the original plan, we need every ounce of gas we can get for the attack, yes? I’m going to drag those two cylinders as close as possible to the camp fence. With the plastic explosive and time pencil fuses from Achnacarry, I can set charges on the cylinder heads and time them to coincide with the attack. Eight o’clock.”

“I completely forgot!” said McConnell, feeling like an idiot. “You’re right. We’re going to need the highest saturation we can get at ground level. I’ll come with you.”

Anna squeezed his hand painfully under the table.

“No point in both of us risking capture,” said Stern, slinging the strap of the bag over his shoulder. “I can drag the cylinders myself.”

McConnell thought about it, then acquiesced. “Just don’t get caught,” he said. “I couldn’t climb that pylon in a week.”

Stern grinned, surprising both Anna and McConnell. “You could if you had to, Doctor. But don’t worry about it. We’re due some good luck.” He picked up his Schmeisser and moved toward the foyer. At the door, he looked back and caught McConnell’s eye, beckoning him to follow.

“What is it?” McConnell asked, pulling the front door closed after them.

“The SS may come for her,” Stern said. “Frankly, it worries me that they haven’t come yet.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you should wait for me in the cellar. She should stay upstairs. If they come, and she goes with them voluntarily, they might not search the house.”

“I’m not an idiot, Stern.”

“I know that. But you . . . her. I’m not blind. All I’m saying is that now is not the time.”

It irritated McConnell that Stern had seen through him so easily. “There may not be any other time,” he said.

Stern shrugged. “Do what you have to. But if they do come here — and they don’t find you — take the spikes from the cellar, climb the hill, and go up that pylon. When you get to the top, tie yourself on with your toggle rope and wait for me as long as you can.” He laughed. “McShane was right about those ropes after all, wasn’t he? Anyway, you’ll be in the treetops, but you’ll be able to see the camp road. If it looks like Schörner’s men are coming up the hill for you, send down the gas. It’s set up so a child could do it. After you’ve done it, forget about me, forget about her, and try to reach the coast. You just might get out alive.”

McConnell was shaking his head, but Stern said, “If it comes to that point, Doctor, she and I are dead already.”

Stern held out his hand for the first time since McConnell had known him.

McConnell took it.

“It’s less than twenty-four hours,” Stern said, squeezing his hand. “What can happen in a day?”