Chosen of the Valkyries

Chapter Thirty-Five

Berlin, Germany Prime

23 October 1985

“They’re not pulling back,” Volker Schulze said. “They’re preparing for a new offensive.”

“It looks that way,” Voss said. He sounded tired. He’d just got back from inspecting one set of defences, Volker knew, and he’d be heading back out in an hour, after he’d given his report. “They’re still shooting at us, but the pressure has slacked. Prisoner interrogations suggest that we’re facing reservists all along the lines.”

Volker frowned. “And there’s no hope they’re pulling back?”

He shook his head before Voss could answer. It was nothing more than wishful thinking – and he knew it all too well. The Waffen-SS wasn’t setting up defensive lines to the east, or withdrawing to more defendable territory. They were massing their troops, giving them time to rest and recuperate before they launched another major offensive. And, because their reservists were still keeping up the pressure, the defenders couldn’t take advantage of the pause to rest themselves. There was, quite literally, nowhere to run.

“Our forces are still massing here and here,” Voss said, tapping points on the map. “They should be ready to advance within five days.”

Volker scowled. “Will they be in time?”

“It depends on just what they have in mind,” Voss said, honestly. “We’re putting together contingency plans to advance earlier, if only to open up a corridor to Berlin, but that would run the risk of allowing them to extract most of their own forces before it was too late.”

“Which would prolong the war,” Volker mused.

“Or shorten it,” Voss countered. “An engagement in open terrain would give them some advantages.”

Volker rubbed his eyes. He might have a bedroom in the bunker, where there was no constant shellfire to keep him awake, but he’d barely been able to sleep properly since the siege had begun. The war had to be fought, he knew; the war had to be won… but the Berliners were suffering in a way that would have been unimaginable, a scant few months ago. He’d certainly never dreamed of being their leader, let alone forced to watch helplessly as his city was slowly reduced to rubble. The war could end tomorrow – and that was another piece of wishful thinking – and it would still take years to rebuild.

And the city will be savaged if the Waffen-SS break through the defences, he thought. It will be the end of days.

He shuddered, wondering just how many men and women were secreting weapons or poison around their person to ensure that they didn’t fall into enemy hands. The reports flowing in from occupied territory were an endless liturgy of horror. Men killed or rounded up and forced to serve the SS; women raped or marched east to be married to SS stormtroopers and raise the next generation of easterners; children taken from their parents and transported to an unknown destination. It was hard to be sure just how many of the reports were actually true – the pre-war intelligence network had been shot to hell – but one thing was clear. The hatred between west and east was growing – and so was the fear.

There’s no way we can live together, he thought, grimly. All we can do is try to slay the monstrous beast in its lair.

He turned to look at the map, shaking his head slowly. Even if they won the battle, even if they smashed the forces laying siege to Berlin, getting to Germanica would take months. The winter was already starting to take hold in the east, making it harder and harder for the easterners to move troops and supplies westward… his forces would have the same problem, if they wanted to launch an eastern offensive. No, any counterattack would have to wait until the spring… assuming, of course, that they survived the coming offensive. And that would give the easterners ample time to prepare.

“We may have only a handful of days,” he said. If there was a spy on the council – and young Albrecht had proved it – the SS would know the situation as well as he did. He would have cut his losses and withdrawn from Berlin, but the SS clearly disagreed. “Can we withstand their offensive?”

“I hope so,” Voss said.

Volker shot him a sharp look. That was hardly a ringing endorsement.

Voss sighed. “Our forces have considerable experience in using the terrain to their advantage,” he said, heavily. He didn’t mention that troops – mainly untrained volunteers – who hadn’t learned had died. “But we are short on ammunition as well as everything from rations to hospital beds. A single push forward might be enough to bleed us dry.”

“And production isn’t keeping up with demand,” Volker muttered.

The irony chilled him to the bone. He’d created the very first union, he’d ensured that the workers had the power to resist the government’s demands… and now he had to force the workers to produce guns and ammunition in record quantities. And the threatened strikes weren’t the worst of it, he knew all too well. The machinery was slowly breaking down, threatening to render the factories useless. His men had no time to fix the damage or even produce more ammunition.

We could ask the Americans for ammunition, he thought, sourly. But their ammunition wouldn’t be suitable for our weapons.

Voss met his eyes. “We could try to discuss a truce,” he offered. “They can have the east and we can have the west.”

“They won’t go for it,” Volker said. “Not after… not after all the bloodshed.”

“The alternative is this war lasting much longer,” Voss said. “Even if Berlin falls… we do have more troops and panzers at our disposal.”

“True,” Volker said. He smiled, rather tiredly. “But will the government hold together if we lose Berlin?”

“So,” her father said. “How are you enjoying married life?”

Gudrun blushed. There had been no hope of a real honeymoon – that would have to wait until the war ended, if it ever did – but they had managed a handful of days away from the maddening crowd. It had been odd, sleeping together without fear of discovery, lying together and talking about their hopes and dreams for the future… the war nothing, but a grim awareness at the back of their minds. But there had been no hope of prolonging the holiday any longer. The fighting was about to get a great deal worse.

“It has its moments,” she said, finally.

“Glad to hear it,” her father said.

He nodded to Horst, then tapped the table, motioning for them both to sit down. “The good news is that I think we’ve isolated the spy within the Reichstag itself,” he said. “By noting the timing of the messages left for Horst” – he nodded to Gudrun’s husband – “and comparing them with the servants who actually left the building, we believe that Elfie Fruehauf is the most likely candidate.”

Gudrun took a moment to place the name. Elfie Fruehauf was a senior cleaner, if she recalled correctly; a thirty-year-old woman who lived and worked in the Reichstag. She’d practically passed unnoticed, even when Gudrun had been trying to get to know the staff. Being unnoticed had to be a desirable skill for a spy, she figured. No one had suspected Horst until after he’d confessed to her personally.

Horst leaned forward. “What’s her excuse for leaving the building?”

“Apparently, she has a husband who runs a bar,” her father said. “They’re both from Bavaria, according to the files; they have no friends or family within the city. They certainly don’t live together, but they see each other as often as they can.”

“Apparently,” Gudrun repeated.

“Reichstag staff are expected to be on call at all times,” Horst reminded her. “I’m surprised they kept her on if she was married.”

Gudrun’s father shrugged. “Her record is very good,” he said. “I imagine – officially – they didn’t want to lose her.”

He leaned forward. “She has clearance to go everywhere, save for the secure rooms,” he added, slowly. “No one would question her if she supervised the maids cleaning the various bedrooms or wonder why she took a room or two to clean herself. She would be completely unnoticed as she placed a note in your room, Horst, and took your reply. And her fingerprints would be everywhere anyway.”

“And she takes the notes to her husband,” Horst mused. “He must be an SS officer too.”

“Probably,” her father said. “They were both born in Munich, according to the files, but I doubt we’ll find any traces of them.”

Gudrun nodded. Munich was the third or fourth largest city in the Reich, with well over a million citizens. A handful of records could be inserted into the files by the SS – which practically controlled the registry office – to create a convincing background, at least on paper, for Elfie Fruehauf and her husband. There would be no reason, she suspected, for anyone to remember them. They’d be average schoolchildren, average workers, average soldiers… even a careful check of the records wouldn’t turn up any red flags. It would take a thorough investigation to penetrate the cover and that would require more time than they had.

“We are running out of time,” Horst said. He looked at Gudrun. “They are demanding more and more details of your schedule.”

Gudrun shivered. Horst had made it clear, more than once, that the SS wanted her alive. It was a terrifying thought. She’d been arrested before, but then she’d just been an average citizen caught up in the middle of a riot. Now, they knew just how big a role she’d played in toppling the Reich Council. Karl Holliston wouldn’t just want her dead, she knew. He’d want her to suffer.

“So we grab the bitch after she returns from the next meeting and interrogate her,” her father said, curtly. “And we raid the bar at the same time.”

Horst shook his head. “There won’t be a direct connection between the bar and the commandos,” he said, flatly. “Taking out the bar will do nothing more than warn them we’re on to them.”

“They want to snatch my daughter,” her father snapped. “I’m not inclined to take chances!”

“If you snatch Elfie Fruehauf,” Horst said, “you will reveal that we know she’s a spy. And they will know that I put you on to her. Our chances of quietly isolating and destroying the commando team will go down sharply.”

“As well as make you a target,” Gudrun said, quietly.

Horst nodded. “The best we can hope for is having them think I’ve been arrested too,” he said. “But… at that point, they will probably decide they want me dead before I can talk.”

Gudrun shook her head. “Then we don’t want to blow your cover.”

“I feel that way,” Horst said, dryly.

“I’ve had the bar under quiet surveillance,” her father injected, sharply. “There are too many people coming and going for us to have any real hope of picking out their contact.”

“And if we raid the bar, the commando team will just pull back and get on with their mission,” Horst added. He looked at Gudrun. “You really need to stay in the Reichstag.”

Gudrun scowled. There was nothing she could do for the war effort, but do her best to boost morale. Visiting hospitals and speaking to the wounded, addressing civilians… helping families who had been blasted out of their homes by shellfire find new places to stay… it wasn’t much, yet it was the only thing she could do. Giving that up didn’t sit well with her, even if she was the only one affected. And if she didn’t visit the hospitals, would it suggest to the population that the provisional government no longer cared?

And if we lose the population, she thought, what happens to us then?

She felt her scowl deepen as her father and husband argued. The SS had been putting up posters everywhere, insisting that the provisional government was responsible for everything from the siege and shellfire to the atrocities the SS had committed as they swept west. And as conditions worsened within the city, people were starting to listen. Gudrun couldn’t help wondering just what would happen if the SS pledged to spare everyone, but the provisional government and its collaborators. She doubted the SS would keep its word – Berlin had been infected by the desire for freedom – yet she suspected it wouldn’t matter. Drowning men would clutch at straws to save their lives.

And what would I do, she asked herself, if my family was starving?

The thought tormented her for a long moment. There were few families in the Reich that didn’t have at least one person – a husband, a son, a brother – in the military. Gudrun’s brother, father and grandfather had all fought for the Reich. But now, almost every military-age male in Berlin who could be spared from their work was in the military, doing everything from fighting on the front lines to transporting weapons and equipment around the city. And everyone else was watching helplessly as their children slowly starved, if they weren’t killed by shellfire or mugged by one of the criminals who had started to prowl the streets, preying on innocent civilians. Their lives had gone downhill sharply…

…And for what?

“We need to draw this team out of hiding,” she said, interrupting their argument. “Don’t we?”

“They won’t show themselves on our terms,” Horst said, shortly. “Gudrun, I know how these people think.”

Gudrun smiled. “So we give them a target they can’t resist,” she said. “We give them me.”

Horst stared at her. “Out of the question!”

Her father echoed him a moment later. “Are you mad?”

Gudrun held up a hand. “We need to lure them into a trap,” she said. “And to do that, we need something that will draw them out of hiding. And we know they want me, correct?”

Horst took a long breath. “Do you have any idea just how many things could go wrong?”

“You could die,” her father said. “Gudrun…”

“I owe it to my conscience to take some risks,” Gudrun said. “I…”

“So you have said,” Horst snapped. “And they’ll engrave it on your tombstone!”

“We tell them where I will be at a specific time,” Gudrun said, ignoring him. “And we have a team of our own in place. When they turn up, we snatch them.”

“Kill them,” Horst corrected. “They won’t surrender and they’ll be damn hard to capture.”

“There’s a major push coming,” Gudrun said. She’d read the briefing notes with growing alarm. American high-attitude recon aircraft had noted the steady build-up of forces around Berlin, the Waffen-SS mustering its power for a final lunge into the city. “We cannot afford to have a commando team running around in the city. Going after me is relatively harmless…”

“No, it isn’t,” Horst said.

“… But going after a power plant or the defence lines is far more dangerous,” Gudrun added, trying hard to keep her voice calm. “We need to deal with them before it’s too late.”

“By using you as bait,” her father said. His voice was very even, very calm. “Gudrun, I forbid it.”

“I’m a married woman,” Gudrun snapped. It wasn’t a tone she would have dared to use earlier, but she was no longer under his authority. “Horst…”

Horst sighed. “It could work,” he conceded, reluctantly. “But Gudrun… the risks alone are terrifying. You could die or be snatched.”

“Or they might realise it was a trap and fall back, abandoning any plans to snatch you,” her father added, angrily. “Gudrun, this is madness.”

“We can make it work,” Gudrun insisted. She looked at Horst. “Can’t we?”

“Maybe,” Horst said, He closed his eyes for a long moment. “Too many people would have to be involved. A single leak would be enough to doom the entire operation. And there are far too many moving parts.”

“But it could work,” Gudrun said.

“Yeah, it could work,” Horst said. He ignored her father’s glare. “But you’d have to do precisely what you’re told to do.”

Her father snorted, rudely. “That will be the day.”

Gudrun looked at him. “Father, I’m already a target,” she said, gently. “This is a chance to turn that into an advantage.”

“Or a chance to get a bullet through the head,” her father snapped. “You’re in quite enough danger without walking straight into a gunfight!”

“They have orders to take her alive,” Horst said. He didn’t sound as though he believed himself. “I don’t think they’ll kill her deliberately.”

“Accidents happen,” her father said. He sighed, heavily. “I should never have let you go to that damned university.”

Gudrun heard the pain – and fear – under his words and bit down, hard, to keep from mustering a sharp response. Her father might be stern, her father might expect her to be more of a traditional girl than she wanted to be, but she’d never doubted her father loved her. Boys were expected to go into danger, to put their bodies between the Reich and all harm; girls were expected to remain at home, safe and warm. And yet, she had started the ball rolling that had eventually brought down the Reich. She was very far from a traditional girl.

“I will be fine,” she said, softly. “Horst is looking after me.”

“Too much can go wrong,” Horst said, sharply. “There is no way we can guarantee your safety.”

Gudrun swallowed, but refused to back down. “Start drawing up the plans,” she said. She’d challenged the Reich at the height of its power. She was damned if she was backing down now. “And then we will make them work.”