Storm Front

Chapter Thirty-One

Berlin, Germany

13 August 1985

Gudrun had endured a naked and uncomfortable night.

The cell hadn’t been as unpleasant as she’d feared – it certainly smelled better than Grandpa Frank’s room – and once a policeman had removed the cuffs she’d been able to move around freely and drink water from a tiny nozzle, but it had been boring. When she’d been grounded as a young girl, she’d been able to read books even if she hadn’t been allowed out of her room, let alone into the garden or onto the streets. There was simply nothing to do in the prison cell, save for trying to sleep and fretting about what would happen to her. She wasn’t even sure just how long she’d been in the cell. Her watch, along with everything she’d been wearing or carrying, had been taken from her during processing and the light bulb never dimmed.

She was half-asleep, dozing fitfully, when someone knocked on the metal grating that ensured she had absolutely no privacy. The noise jerked her awake; she hastily covered her breasts and crotch with her hands as she sat upright, blinking. Her head hurt; it occurred to her, suddenly, that she hadn’t eaten anything for hours, perhaps days. How long had she been a prisoner in the cell? How long could someone survive on water alone? She didn’t know.

“Eat,” the guard said, slipping a tray through the bars. “And then be ready.”

Gudrun scowled at him. “Ready for what?”

The guard ignored her and walked onwards, pushing a trolley to the next cell. Gudrun stood, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and picked up the tray carefully. She had no idea what went into the stew, but it didn’t smell anything like the stew her mother made, while the piece of bread was hard enough to threaten her teeth. There were no knives or forks, let alone salt and pepper. It tasted, when she placed a piece of meat in her mouth, like pork on the verge of going bad. Her stomach rebelled at the thought of eating it, but she knew there was no choice. She forced it down her throat with plenty of water and pushed the tray back out of the cell. No doubt the ghastly food was yet another form of torture.

She looked up as the guard returned, jangling his keys as he stopped in front of her cell and peered in at her. Gudrun covered herself as best as she could, knowing that nothing would stop the guard if he decided to open the grate and have some fun with her. She promised herself that she’d fight, that she’d put a knee between his legs before she let him rape her, but she knew she was too tired and hungry, despite the food, to hold out for long. It was a relief when another guard arrived, spoke briefly to the first guard and then tapped on Gudrun’s grate. When she looked up, she saw he was holding a pair of handcuffs.

“Turn around and give me your hands,” he ordered.

Gudrun considered refusing, but she knew it was pointless. She turned and allowed him to cuff her, then shrank backwards as he entered the cell. He caught her arm in a vice-like grip, pulled her out of the cell and through a solid metal door that looked as though it should belong in a battleship. It banged closed behind her as she was shoved down the corridor and into another room. A familiar box, marked with her name and a number she didn’t recognise, was positioned neatly on the floor.

“Get dressed,” the guard ordered, as he removed the cuffs. He sounded bored, despite her nakedness. Perhaps he saw naked prisoners every day. “Make sure everything you had on you when you were arrested has been given back to you.”

Gudrun blinked at him. “I’m to dress?”

“Yes,” the policeman said, shortly. “Get dressed. Someone is on their way to pick you up.”

She fought down her surprise as she opened the box, reminding herself that it might just be a trick. But all of her clothes were inside, neatly folded; she shuddered at the thought of policemen pawing them before deciding it didn’t matter. She pulled on her panties and bra, then her trousers and shirt, feeling better with every piece of clothing she donned. By the time the box was empty – she hadn’t been carrying much, save for a couple of pens and a set of house keys – she felt almost human again.

The policeman snapped on the cuffs again, then marched her through another series of corridors into what she guessed was a waiting room. He removed one of the cuffs, locked it to a chair and walked off, leaving her alone. Gudrun scowled after him – did they really think she was that dangerous? – and then started to wonder who was coming to pick her up. Her father? Her brother? Either one might – might – have been able to get her released. There were no other prisoners in the room… maybe she was the only person being allowed to go free. It wasn’t a comforting thought. Her father would probably forbid her from returning to the university; he’d probably tell her to find a man within the next week or marry his choice, whoever it turned out to be.

She looked up as the door opened to reveal another female prisoner. The policeman escorting her cuffed her to another chair at the far end of the room, then left the two girls alone. It was impossible to talk without shouting, so Gudrun settled for sending the newcomer a reassuring look and waiting to see what happened. She didn’t seem to have any other choice, beyond demanding to be allowed to go to the toilet… and the toilet in the cell had been unspeakably vile.

It’s a prison, stupid, she reminded herself. It’s not a holiday camp.

It felt like hours before yet another policeman arrived, released her from the chair and marched her out of the room, into a lobby. Horst was standing there, looking nervous; Gudrun flushed with embarrassment as she realised he could see her in cuffs, then blinked in surprise as she tried to work out what he was doing there. He wasn’t her father, her brother or her boyfriend… why was he coming to pick her up? Did he think their kiss gave him a claim on her? Or…

“You are free to go,” the policeman said, removing the cuffs for the final time. Gudrun rubbed her wrists. The cuffs hadn’t been as tight as they’d been yesterday, but they’d still been uncomfortable. She had a feeling she’d be sore for days. “Go.”

“Come on,” Horst said. “I’ve got the car just outside.”

Gudrun followed him, feeling numb. “Where are we?”

“A police station on the outskirts of Berlin,” Horst said. He opened the door; Gudrun blinked and hastily covered her eyes as the sunlight shone down. “They wanted students rather than parents to pick up the prisoners.”

That sounded odd, Gudrun thought; every time she or her brothers had managed to get in trouble at school, their parents had been summoned to pick them up. Perhaps it was different for the police… or, perhaps, the police hadn’t wanted to make a fuss. Her father was a policeman, after all. Who knew what he would have said to the officers who’d processed his daughter?

“It should be safe to talk in here,” Horst said, once they were in the car. He started the engine as Gudrun buckled herself into the passenger seat. “Quite a bit has happened since you were arrested.”

Gudrun listened in growing disbelief as he outlined the end of the strike. “They just… they just surrendered?”

“I very much doubt it,” Horst said. “They were surprised, of course, when mothers and wives came out onto the streets in a mass protest. So many people walked away from their jobs that the city literally ground to a halt. The government might have had to make concessions, just to get the city moving again, but they won’t let it rest.”

“No,” Gudrun agreed. “They’ve been humiliated.”

“A bit more than merely humiliated,” Horst said. He gave her a sidelong look. “How did they treat you?”

Gudrun felt her body starting to shake. They’d stripped her naked, seen her most private places… they could have done worse, far worse, and she knew it. She’d been helpless, defenceless, she could have vanished into the prison system and never been allowed to emerge… she could still feel their hands on her, turning her into a helpless piece of meat. She was barely aware of Horst parking the car as she curled up in the seat, then flinched in surprise as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to give what comfort he could. But he couldn’t understand what she’d been through. How could he?

“Badly,” she said, finally. She wanted to keep it to herself, but she had a feeling that talking about it would help her to overcome the sense of bitter helplessness. “They stripped me, inspected me… like a doctor, only worse.”

“But it’s over now,” Horst said.

“It’s not over,” Gudrun said. “You said it yourself. The government isn’t going to give up just because it lost this round.”

“No, it isn’t,” Horst said. He looked nervous. “Gudrun… I have something important to tell you.”

Gudrun looked up at him. Konrad had sounded similar, very similar, when he’d asked for her promise of marriage. And Horst… did he want to ask her to marry him? Or…?

“I’ve been keeping a secret from you,” Horst confessed, slowly. He slowly released her shoulders. “They sent me to spy on you.”

It took Gudrun a moment to put it together. When she did, she slapped his face as hard as she could. Horst recoiled backwards, one hand going to his face; Gudrun flinched herself as she realised what she’d done. She’d slapped an SS officer… she’d just got out of one dingy prison cell and now she’d go straight into another, if he didn’t just throw her into the camps and gas her. And yet, if he was an SS officer, why wasn’t she dead? Horst knew the names and faces of every one of the Valkyries.

“I suppose I deserved that,” Horst said, finally. “But please don’t do it again.”

He rubbed his face as Gudrun stared at him. She’d left a nasty mark on his right cheek, just indicative of a handprint. He didn’t sound particularly hurt… but then, he wouldn’t. Kurt had told her far too much about military training, including being taught how to take a blow and recover. Horst had probably been slapped worse in basic training… if he’d had basic training. How much of what he’d told them had been a lie?

“You didn’t betray us,” she said. She wondered, vaguely, if he’d want to slap her back. “I… why not?”

“Konrad was a good man,” Horst said. “I read his file. He was on the fast-track for promotion. And yet, the moment he’s wounded, they betray him and his family just to conceal the simple fact that the war isn’t going as well as they claim. Everything he’s done for them, everything his father has done for them, no longer matters. They betrayed someone who served them faithfully.”

Gudrun eyed him sharply. “And that’s why you didn’t report us?”

“I believed what I was told,” Horst said, after a moment. “It never crossed my mind that a person like Konrad could be betrayed by his own superiors. I… I knew I might be abandoned myself, but I knew the risks when I started. Konrad was Waffen-SS. They should have kept faith with him as he kept faith with them.”

He could have betrayed us, Gudrun thought. She’d never suspected him, not once; hell, she’d liked him. As bad as being stuck in jail for a night had been, it would have been far worse if the police had known who they’d caught. And if he’d betrayed us, we would all be dead by now.

“I believed in the ideal of the SS,” Horst added. “A body of men, the black knights of the iron cross, who would fight for the Vaterland and never surrender. I saw them in their uniforms, back in the east, and knew I wanted to be one of them. And then I discovered that my superiors were prepared to betray their own people, just to preserve their power.”

“The SS has done terrible things,” Gudrun said.

“Crushing the enemies of Germany isn’t a terrible thing,” Horst said. “But betraying its own people… yes, that’s terrible. And so I decided to help you.”

“Rather than report us,” Gudrun said. She wondered, idly, just what would happen to Horst if his superiors ever found out. Gudrun and her fellow students might be mere dissidents, but Horst had actively betrayed his oaths. “Why did you tell me now?”

Horst looked down at the steering wheel. “That bungling idiot of a spy…”

Gudrun had to smile. “Which one?”

“Krabbe,” Horst said. He sounded as though he wanted to say something worse. “That bungling buffoon approached me when I was with Sven and Leopold and, if that wasn’t bad enough, gave an excuse that wouldn’t fool a drunken husband. I should have shoved him down the stairs and sworn blind it was a terrible accident.”

“So they may know what you are,” Gudrun said, slowly. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I’m going to put together a cover story, but I don’t know how well it will hold up,” Horst said, thoughtfully. “I don’t think I could rely on that idiot to count to eleven without taking off his shoes, let alone stick to the script. Still, if someone raises concerns about me, could you deflect them? I think we’re going to have a lot of work to do in the next few months.”

“I’ll do my best,” Gudrun said. “The mere fact you didn’t betray us should count in your favour.”

“I hope so,” Horst said. “But undercover groups have torn themselves apart before, just because one member became suspicious of another. That’s what did in the French Resistance.”

“I’ll do my best,” Gudrun repeated. She looked up at him, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. “You’re braver than me, Horst.”

“I’m trained for this,” Horst said. “I wasn’t joking when I said I learned to carry and use a gun almost as soon as I could walk. The insurgents made sure of it. I came under fire a long time before I joined the Hitler Youth. The SS only gave me better training. You… you weren’t taught how to be anything but a housewife. No one would have thought any less of you if you’d married at sixteen and concentrated on turning out babies. You’re far braver than I am.”

“Perhaps,” Gudrun said. “Would you teach me? To fight?”

Horst blinked. “It wouldn’t be easy to teach you how to fire a gun,” he said. “The handful of private shooting ranges in the city are closely supervised.”

“But you could teach me how to fight hand-to-hand,” Gudrun said. “If everyone in the east fights, doesn’t that include the women?”

“They fight with guns,” Horst said. He gave her a long look. “All other things being equal, Gudrun, a man will always be stronger than a woman.”

Gudrun scowled. “But if you taught me how to fight, their strength might not be a problem,” she argued. “And I do need to know.”

“I can try,” Horst said. “But it will hurt. It will hurt a lot.”

“Thank you,” Gudrun said.

She impulsively leaned forward and kissed him, gently. Horst started in surprise, then kissed her back, his hands reaching out to hold her tightly. Gudrun pulled back for a second, surprised at the sudden rush of feeling. She’d survived another incident that could easily have ended her life, but this was different. Horst had chosen to take a stand, rather than betray them, and she couldn’t help feeling a rush of affection. She kissed him again, harder this time. His hands started to slip around to her breasts as his kisses became more passionate; she wrapped her arms around him and felt the strong muscles hidden under his clothes. No wonder he’d always worn loose clothes. The Hitler Youth might insist that boys spent most of their time engaged in healthy outdoors exercise, but Horst was far more muscular than Sven or Leopold…

“We shouldn’t go any further,” Horst said, pulling back. “Not here.”

Gudrun looked around and flushed with embarrassment. There were only a handful of cars in the road, but anyone passing by could see them making out in the car. Maybe they’d even call the police. That would be embarrassing. Horst gave her a final kiss, then let go of her and restarted the engine. They drove back to her house in silence.

“My father might kill me as soon as I walk in the door,” Gudrun said, slowly. She knew her father would be furious and, if she’d been missing for a day, he would have had plenty of time to grow angrier. Her mother probably wouldn’t be able to calm him down. “But if he doesn’t kill me…”

“He won’t,” Horst said, as he turned the corner and drove towards the house. “I’ll see you at university, tomorrow.”

“If I’m allowed out of the house,” Gudrun said, although she had no intention of letting her father stop her. The butterflies in her stomach might be nasty, but there were worse things to endure than parental disapproval. “I might have to tell him we’re courting.”

“I would be happy to court you,” Horst said. He held up a hand. “But, for the moment, we have to be careful. I’m not the only agent at the university.”

Gudrun nodded, then opened the door as soon as the car came to a stop. She fumbled for her keys as she walked towards the door, but it opened before she could find them. Her father was standing there, looking furious. The butterflies in Gudrun’s stomach mated and produced babies. Her father hadn’t been so angry since Siegfried had mocked Konrad’s injuries to Gudrun’s face.

“Get inside,” he snapped. “Now!”

“Yes, father,” Gudrun said.