Storm Front

Chapter Twelve

Victory Square, Berlin

28 July 1985

Gudrun had always found Victory Square a little intimidating.

It had been designed, she’d been told, to showcase the victories of the Third Reich. There were dozens of statues, each one representing a hero of Nazi Germany, and plinths representing battles fought and won by German armies. Every day, thousands of men, women and children thronged through the square, admiring the relics, visiting the museums and donating small change for wounded soldiers. Gudrun had donated some of her pocket money every time she’d visited the square with the BDM – she hadn’t been given a choice – but now she wondered where the money actually went. Did it really go to the soldiers or was it stolen by some corrupt government official?

She pushed the thought aside, straightened her shoulders and started to look for her first target. There was an art to handing out leaflets, she’d been taught as a child; she had to make eye contact, using the motion to make it absolutely clear that the target had to take the leaflet. As an adult, she suspected that the targets only took the leaflets because they knew better than to refuse, but right now it hardly mattered. She walked forward with the gait she’d learned in the BDM and started to hand out the leaflets. As she’d expected, the targets took the leaflets without hesitation and shoved them into their pockets.

Maybe we should have handed out advertisements instead, she thought, as she kept moving, neatly avoiding a BDM matron on the prowl. The crone wouldn’t recognise her, of course, but that might not stop her trying to issue orders. Something that would stand out from the normal BDM leaflets.

She smiled at a pair of young soldiers and passed them a couple of leaflets each, then made a gesture towards the matrons when one of them started to try to flirt with her. He was handsome enough, she had to admit, but there was no time to waste. Besides, even though she knew it was unlikely Konrad would ever recover, she was damned if she was cheating on him until she knew he was dead. She spied a young couple, the woman carrying a small boy on her back, and gave them a leaflet, smiling at the child as she walked away. Who knew what sort of world the child would inherit?

A pair of older men wearing workers overalls leered at her; she smiled charmingly at them both and handed out a pair of leaflets. They took them and looked her up and down, their eyes locking on her padded breasts. Gudrun flushed, then hurried past them towards the next group of prospective targets. The workers, at least, wouldn’t be able to say anything about her beyond the fact she’d had an impressive chest. And, once she pulled out the padding, they wouldn’t have anything to go on. She glanced at her watch – ten minutes left – and moved onwards.

She jumped as a hand fell on her shoulder and spun around to see one of the matrons. “You,” the matron growled. “This section belongs to my girls!”

Gudrun lowered her eyes, pretending to be scared. It wasn’t hard.

“Matron told us that…”

“I don’t give a damn what your matron told you,” the woman snapped. Her breath stank so badly Gudrun rather suspected she never bothered to brush her teeth. “This is our section, so clear out!”

“Of course, of course,” Gudrun said.

She turned and hurried away, wondering just what had got into the older woman. Had someone complained that the BDM weren’t handing out their quota of leaflets? Or was she just enjoying the chance to boss a younger and prettier girl around, scaring the life out of her all the while? She dismissed the thought – it didn’t matter – and walked around the square before she started handing out more leaflets. It wasn’t as if she had a matron of her own to complain to.

A handful of men were coming out of a pub, facing the Ministry of Finance. Feeling daring, she hurried forward and started to hand out leaflets. One man and woman looked odd – there was something about them that puzzled her – but they took a pair of leaflets anyway. Gudrun walked past them and slowly started to make her way back to the vans. No matter how she looked at it, time was running out. It wouldn’t be long before someone read one of the leaflets and gave it to a policeman…

“That is a very odd man,” Penelope said, once Aldrich had headed back to his office. “Why was he being such… such a creep?”

Andrew smiled. “You’ve never encountered anyone like him in America?”

“No,” Penelope said. “Certainly no one so… crude.”

“He’s a government official in the most deeply corrupt government in the world,” Andrew explained, as he took a final sip of his beer. “A man in his position, with a little ingenuity, can do almost anything, as long as he doesn’t offend his superiors. I wouldn’t put it past him to refuse to issue permits without a bribe or some other… considerations. He’s certainly in a good position to sell my gifts and make a tidy profit for himself.”

Penelope gave him a sharp look. “And no one dares to complain?”

“This isn’t America,” Andrew said. “In America, a government official who acts like an asshole can be arrested, put in a courtroom and jailed. Here? Anyone who dares complain will probably wind up on the wrong side of the law and wind up in deep trouble. All Aldrich has to do is mention their name to the security services and watch the rest from a safe distance.”

“I see,” Penelope said. She looked as if she had some other questions, but kept them to herself. “When can we go back to the embassy?”

“I was going to propose a walk around the square,” Andrew said. He understood her feelings – this was her first time in Nazi Germany – but he couldn’t afford to allow her to indulge them. The sooner she grasped – truly grasped – the nature of the Third Reich, the better. “It might help get some of the taste of corruption out of your mouth.”

He waited for her to visit the ladies, then led the way out of the pub and onto the roadside. A BDM girl in a strikingly ugly uniform gave them a long look – she could tell they were foreigners, although he doubted she could peg them for Americans – and then gave them each a leaflet. Andrew took his, put it in his pocket and shook his head as the girl walked onwards, leaving them behind. It really was a strikingly ugly uniform.

“And to think I thought the girl scouts was bad,” Penelope muttered. “That poor girl…”

She glanced at him. “What do we do with the leaflets?”

“We pass them to the desk officer at the embassy,” Andrew said. The girl would probably wind up in trouble if the leaflets were simply dumped, particularly as the police couldn’t do more to the Americans than escort them back to the embassy. “They’ll inspect the leaflets to see if there’s anything new, then discard them into the recycling bin. We may as well get some use out of them.”

“Like lighting a fire,” Penelope said.

“Good use for them,” Andrew agreed. He caught sight of another pair of BDM girls and steered Penelope away from them. There was no point in collecting more leaflets. “But for everyone here… being caught using them for anything other than propaganda is a good way to get into trouble.”

Horst knew himself to be a brave man. He’d had no doubt he could handle himself since the first time his settlement had come under attack, when he’d been seven years old. His training in the Hitler Youth, then the SS had only honed his edge. He’d never truly doubted he could handle anything he faced. But now he was worried. Gudrun and the other girls were out in the square, handing out the leaflets, yet he could do nothing to help them. He listened to the police band with one ear – Sven had done a very good job, he had to admit – but if the police started to hunt for BDM imposters, there was nothing he could do to alert the girls.

We really need some small radios, he told himself. And a few other pieces of covert gear.

He scowled. He’d given the matter a great deal of thought, but he honestly couldn’t imagine how to get the equipment, at least not without raising too many questions. Besides, even if he could obtain a few radio sets they wouldn’t useful for very long. A handful of American spies had been caught because the SS had tracked their transmissions, pin-pointed the source and sent in the stormtroopers. He didn’t want Gudrun and the others to go the same way.

The radio buzzed. Horst felt a chill run down his spine as he listened to the message, then relaxed as he realised it had nothing to do with the girls. Someone had stolen a car and all policemen were to be on the lookout for it. Horst smirked – the car must have belonged to someone important – and then dismissed the matter. Anything that tied up the Berlin Police was useful, as far as he was concerned. He took another look at the timer and winced. Time was running out.

He reached instinctively for where his pistol should have been when he heard the sound of someone opening the rear door. Cursing – he hadn’t been allowed to take a pistol to the university – he glanced back, groping frantically for a heavy axe as the door opened and Gudrun stepped into the van. Letting out a sigh of relief, he let go of the axe as Gudrun closed the door behind her and smiled at him.

“Ready to sell your life dearly?”

“Yes,” Horst said, flatly. No matter what he’d told the group, he knew he wouldn’t survive once he was arrested. Those who went into the Reichssicherheitshauptamt – the Reich Main Security Office – never returned. Fighting – and perhaps forcing them to kill him – seemed the better option. “How did it go?”

“No trouble,” Gudrun said. She sounded pleased. “The others are back. I think we’d better go.”

“Understood,” Horst said. He turned back to the wheel and started the engine. “You get the uniform and wig off once we’re on the move. We really don’t want to be caught now.”

“Of course not,” Gudrun said.

Horst allowed himself a tight smile as he guided the van out onto the streets, then headed down the nearest road out towards the suburbs. The others would go in different directions, meeting up again near the university campus. If they were really lucky, they’d be able to return the wigs to the amateur theatrical group before anyone thought to look for them. He kept a sharp eye out for police cars as they slipped onto the main road and then gunned the engine. As long as they looked harmless, they would merge seamlessly with the whole and remain unnoticed.

The radio crackled. “This is Callsign Blue,” a voice said. Horst tensed; Callsign Blue was the Berlin Security Office. It didn’t sound as though the speaker was used to issuing orders over the radio. “All policemen within sectors one and two are to round up BDM girls and their matrons; I say again, all policemen within sectors one and two are to round up BDM girls and their matrons. Reinforcements have been dispatched.”

“They caught on,” Gudrun said. “Someone must have taken a leaflet to a policeman.”

“It certainly sounds that way,” Horst said. “Have you finished changing?”

He wasn’t particularly worried. Unless something had gone very wrong, all four vans were going to be well out of sectors one and two by the time the police started putting up barricades. He’d assumed the SS stormtroopers charged with defending the Reichstag would get involved, but it sounded like the police were taking the lead. Probably not a mistake on their part – the stormtroopers had live ammunition and were trained to use it – yet it only gave the group more time to make their escape.

“I have,” Gudrun said. She giggled, nervously. “I sure hope my father doesn’t see me like this.”

Horst glanced back, briefly. Gudrun’s shirt and jeans were almost painfully tight. He could see the outline of her bra against her shirt.

“I think your father will have other things to worry about,” he said, as he hastily turned his attention back to the road. “Did you see him while you were handing out leaflets?”

“I didn’t,” Gudrun said. She giggled, again. “We got away with it!”

“Don’t get overconfident,” Horst warned. “We haven’t even seen their official response to our leaflets.”

He was right, Gudrun knew. The police were acting faster than she’d feared, but they weren’t going to catch anything beyond a few hundred innocent girls. Chances were they’d confiscate the leaflets from everyone caught within the barricades, not keep the girls behind bars for very long. Who knew how their parents would react after finding out that their daughters, some as young as twelve, were being held by the police?

She found herself giggling, once again, as she realised just what they’d done. They’d walked through Victory Square itself, handing out seditious leaflets, and no one had noticed in time to try to stop them. That matron was going to be in deep trouble when she confessed she’d seen Gudrun and done nothing… and, if she gave the SS an accurate description of what she’d seen, it would lead them in entirely the wrong direction. Who knew? Maybe someone would assume the BDM itself had been handing out the leaflets, perhaps a rogue matron with a grudge against the state. It might even sound plausible…

“I feel funny,” she said. It reminded her of when she’d drunk a little wine the day she’d turned sixteen. Her head had felt strange for hours and she’d giggled like a little girl at everything, even unfunny jokes. “Is that normal?”

“It’s fairly normal,” Horst said. He parked the van in a lay-by, clambered out of his chair and came into the rear. “Did you hand out all of the leaflets?”

“Yep,” Gudrun said. She had to fight to hold down another fit of giggles. “Everything’s gone.”

Horst nodded, then opened a bag and packed the remains of her BDM uniform away. Gudrun was too giggly to help him, even though she hated leaving the task to him. His eyes swept the vehicle, looking for anything else that might prove incriminating. But there was nothing, save for the radio itself. Gudrun watched as he packed it into another bag, then placed both bags near the door.

“I’m going to drop you off near your house,” he said. “Take your uniform and return it to wherever you kept it. You probably shouldn’t be carrying it around at all.”

“I’d sooner burn it,” Gudrun said. “Can’t we just toss it into the fire?”

“Safer not to risk your parents noticing,” Horst said. He glanced up at her. “There’s no point in taking risks. I’ll give the radio to Sven and he can break it back down into its component parts before it occurs to them to search the university.”

Gudrun nodded, feeling suddenly sober. They’d done it. They’d crossed another line, one that would lead rapidly to jail if they were caught. She didn’t understand how Horst managed to remain so calm, when they’d thoroughly compromised themselves. Her entire body began to shake as it hit her, suddenly, just how far they’d gone. And how far they had yet to go, if they weren’t caught.

“It’s all right,” Horst assured her. He put a hand on her shoulder as she shook. “You’ve done fine, really.”

Gudrun leaned forward and kissed him, hard. There was no conscious thought in it, just a desire to feel someone pressing against her. For a second, Horst kissed her back and then he pulled away, gently holding her at arm’s length. Gudrun stared at him, her emotions spinning madly. For all she’d done with Konrad – and the thought of her boyfriend added an extra stab of guilt to the mix – she’d never felt the simple burning need for his touch. Part of her wanted to slap Horst for not kissing her as hard as he could, the rest of her felt ashamed. This was neither the time nor the place.

“It’s a natural reaction,” Horst assured her, gently. “You just want to feel alive.”

Gudrun stared at him, trying to wrap her mind around his refusal to kiss her back, let alone go further. She’d been told that a man would go as far as the woman would let him – and further, if he thought he could get away with it. And yet, Horst was gently refusing her unspoken offer. They could have made love in the back of the van and no one would have been any the wiser.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally. “I…”

“Ask me afterwards, if you like,” Horst said. “But right now, Gudrun, you’re not thinking straight.”

“Bastard,” Gudrun muttered.

Horst climbed back into the driver’s seat and restarted the engine. “I’ll drop you off in two minutes,” he said. “Remember to come into university as normal tomorrow, but be careful what you say and do. There’s no way to know how the government will react.”

“I understand,” Gudrun said. She removed a small mirror from her pocket and inspected her face carefully. She looked normal, thankfully. “And thank you.”

“Thank me afterwards,” Horst grunted. “Not before.”