Chosen of the Valkyries (Twilight Of The Gods Book 2) (10 page)

“Good,” a
very
familiar voice said.  “Horst, my boy, perhaps you have an explanation?”

Horst kept his face under tight control as
Standartenfuehrer
Erdmann Schwarzkopf stepped into the light.  He’d lost track of Schwarzkopf after the uprising had begun, although a handful of Schwarzkopf’s spies - his laughably ill-prepared spies - had been brutally beaten to death.  Horst had hoped that Schwarzkopf had gone the same way, but the damned
Standartenfuehrer
had clearly managed to go underground before his first safehouse could be torn apart by the mob.  Schwarzkopf had always been good at covering his ass.

“At last,” Horst said.  He pushed as much enthusiasm into his voice as he could.  “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Schwarzkopf lifted his eyebrows.  “You have?”

“Of course,” Horst told him.  “I put myself close to the traitors and waited.”

“You have been
very
close to one of the traitors,” Schwarzkopf said.  “I hear you have been in
bed
with her.”

His voice hardened.  “A traitor
you
told us was
not
a traitor.”

“I do not believe she was, at the time of her arrest,” Horst said, carefully.  If they realised he’d lied to them, back before the uprising, he’d never leave the building alive.  “She was pushed into treason by the way she was handled, after her arrest.”

“She is hardly the first person to have been arrested and then released,” Schwarzkopf observed.

“That is correct,” Horst said.  “She was merely the right person at the right time.”

He paused, then went on.  “When I realised she had become entangled with the traitors, it was far too late to do anything about it,” he added.  “Therefore, I attached myself to her and waited for you to make contact.  I knew you would have
someone
within the
Reichstag
.”

“You could have used one of the dead-drops to make contact,” Schwarzkopf pointed out, darkly.  “Why didn't you?”

“A number of files were captured by the traitors,” Horst said.  “I knew they were watching for signs of treason.  There was no way I dared trust any of the dead-drops.”

He held himself immobile, meeting Schwarzkopf’s eyes without flinching.  If Schwarzkopf bought it ... he knew the man well enough to know that telling him what he wanted to hear was never a waste of time.  And yet, Schwarzkopf had probably had a truckload of shit dumped on him by his superiors after Gudrun had become the public face of the student movement.  It wouldn’t be out of character for him to suspect that Horst was either an idiot or a traitor himself.  God knew he had good reason to be furious.

“And you spent your time having your knob sucked,” Schwarzkopf said.  “I do trust you enjoyed it?”

Horst had to fight to keep his face expressionless.  No true German youth would allow such a sally to go unpunished, not if he had genuine feelings for the girl.  Insulting a girlfriend was the easiest way to start a fight, even better than a suggestion that a young man's mother might have been an
Untermensch
.  And yet, he knew Schwarzkopf was probing.  If he suspected that Horst
did
have feelings for Gudrun ...

And he has someone watching us
, he thought, grimly.  They’d thought they were being discreet, but someone who kept their head down and merely watched might have a very good idea of what they did together. 
How much does he know?

“I know my duty,
Herr Standartenfuehrer
,” he said, stiffly.  He couldn't allow himself to get angry, not now.  “It is my job to do whatever is necessary to insert myself into their innermost councils.”

“I’m sure you hated every last minute of it,” Schwarzkopf said.  His face twisted into an ugly smile.  “How long can you remain here?”

Horst checked his watch, wondering just what sort of answer he could give.  Schwarzkopf had a source within the
Reichstag
.  Horst wouldn't have bet a single forged
Reichmark
that he didn't have a good idea of Horst’s schedule already.  Getting caught in a lie would be very dangerous.

“At least an hour, perhaps two,” he said, finally.  He forced himself to leer.  “I normally seduce her after the council meetings, so we can discuss matters in a pleasant haze.  She might be suspicious if I am not available as soon as she leaves the council chambers.”

“An hour,” Schwarzkopf mused.

He cleared his throat.  “I have a number of questions for you, then we will set up contact procedures,” he said.  “You will be expected to play your part in the triumphant restoration of the Third
Reich
.  If you serve well, your previous mistakes will be forgiven; if you blunder again, you will be executed. 
Heil Holliston
!”

“
Heil Holliston
,” Horst echoed.  He would have to be very careful when he answered, but he had no choice.  “I will not fail you.”

“Very good,” Schwarzkopf said.  “And now we begin.”

Chapter Nine

Berlin, Germany

3 September 1985

Gudrun had wondered, from time to time, why her father hadn't actively sought promotion in the police.  Given his career - he’d been a military officer - and some of his connections, he should have been kicked up a level or two long before the uprising.  But when she’d asked, as a younger girl, he’d told her that he hated being trapped behind a desk, having to deal with bureaucratic meetings.  She’d thought he was just making excuses, but now - after three hours of largely pointless blether - she was starting to see his point.

She sighed, inwardly, as she walked slowly back to her bedroom.  Volker Schulze was eminently practical, thankfully, but both Finance Minister Hans Krueger and Admiral Wilhelm Riess were experienced bureaucratic infighters who seemed to be prepared to argue for hours rather than concede anything to their rivals.  She'd hoped for better from Arthur Morgenstern - Hilde’s father - but he seemed unwilling to do anything apart from sit in his chair and drink coffee.  Gudrun had only met him a couple of times, before the uprising, yet she’d never realised just how much of a milksop he was.  Promoting him to the
Reich
Council might have been a mistake.

A pair of serving girls jumped to one side as she passed, their eyes going wide.  Gudrun smiled at them both, unable to keep from feeling sorry for them.  She’d talked to a few, back when she’d moved into her bedroom, only to discover that they’d been treated badly by the old council.  They’d even been expected to provide sexual services to the councillors!  And to think they were good German girls.

She pushed the thought aside and stepped into her bedroom.  Horst was sitting on the bed, as she’d expected, but his face was grim rather than welcoming.  Gudrun felt a chill running down her spine as she closed and locked the door, then swore inwardly as she saw the device in Horst’s hand.  Portable bug detectors were vanishingly rare in the
Reich
, almost unknown outside the intelligence services.  And if Horst had been searching the room for bugs ...

“We have to talk,” Horst said.  He rose from the bed and sat down in the comfortable chair, a sign that he wasn't interested in making love.  The world had to be coming to an end.  “There have been ... developments.”

Gudrun sat down on the bed, feeling cold.  “What happened?”

“My old ... associates contacted me,” Horst said.  He ran through a brief explanation, then leaned forward.  “They managed to get a message into my bedroom.”

It took Gudrun a moment to realise the implications.  “They have a spy in the
Reichstag
?”

“Perhaps more than one,” Horst warned.  “If they can get access to my bedroom, then nowhere is safe.

He rubbed his forehead.  “If they have two spies, neither one will know about the other.  The SS was quite fond of placing observers in the government and military, reporting back to their superiors.”

“Observers like you,” Gudrun said.

She still shivered in horror when she remembered Horst telling her, rather apologetically, that he was an SS officer.  He could have betrayed her at any moment, if he’d remained true to his oaths.  She'd never suspected, even with the benefit of hindsight.  And she’d invited him to the very first meeting!  They could have been quietly arrested and dispatched to a concentration camp at any moment, along with their families.  Horst ... she knew, all too well, that she owed him her very life. 

“Yes,” Horst said.  “I doubt they will be easy to catch.”

“We have the files,” Gudrun said.  “Don’t we?”

“I would be surprised if the files we recovered from the
Reichssicherheitshauptamt
include anyone who works in such a role,” Horst said.  “There were no files relating to me or any of the others I knew.  As far as the
Reichssicherheitshauptamt
was concerned, I was just another student with a pure-perfect record.”

Gudrun nodded, shortly.  The university had prided itself on selecting the best and brightest young Germans to be its students, but
none
of them would have been allowed to pass through the doors if their families and bloodlines hadn't been pure.  Horst
had
been qualified, as well as an SS officer; he’d certainly blended in perfectly.  The same couldn't be said for the other spies.  They’d been so obvious that Gudrun doubted that
anyone
had been fooled.

“So the files will say they were just ... ordinary people,” she mused.  “How do we catch them?”

“I don’t think we can,” Horst said, after a moment.  “A full-scale hunt for a spy will tip them off, I think.  And that will prove to the bastards that
I
can't be trusted.”

Gudrun swallowed.  If Horst hadn't spoken up for her, she doubted she would have been allowed to return to Berlin.  Her father had been furious, but she would sooner endure her father’s anger than a concentration camp.  The files had made it very clear - all too clear - just what the camp inmates had had to endure, before they died.

“I see,” she said.  She took a long breath, calming herself.  “What do they want from you?”

“Right now, they just want me to keep an eye on you and the rest of the councillors,” Horst said.  “But I expect that will change in short order.”

“They’ll want you to kill us,” Gudrun said, flatly.

“Probably,” Horst agreed.  “The defences around the
Reichstag
are good, even if they are a little crude.  Inside help will make it easier for them to get a second kill-team into the building.”

“We’re not going to be staying here for long, anyway,” Gudrun reminded him.

“No,” Horst agreed.  “And the confusion caused by the move, I think, will make it much easier for them to accomplish their goals.”

Gudrun swallowed, hard.  “Can we track down the stay-behind team?”

“I don’t think it will be easy,” Horst said.  “Standard procedure is to hold meetings with untrustworthy assets well away from the base of operations.  Even if we capture my contact, he’s unlikely to break in time to allow us to capture the remaining commandos.  They’ll have procedures in place to deal with a sudden upset.”

Gudrun cursed.  “So all we can do is wait to be hit?”

“We make some very quiet precautions,” Horst said.  “But otherwise ... we have to wait for them to move first.”

He paused.  “And they know about us.”

Gudrun coloured.  “Everything?”

“I think so,” Horst said.  He looked embarrassed.  “We
could
get married, you know.”

“I’m not pregnant,” Gudrun said, automatically.  She
did
love Horst, but she wanted to be something more than a wife.  If she was married, everyone would assume that Horst was pulling her strings.  “And wouldn't that be a
little
too revealing to your superiors?”

Horst smirked.  “There was a spy in America who was married to an American girl and, as far as anyone could tell, he was the perfect American,” he said.  “It didn't stop him from stealing a bunch of secrets one day and fleeing back to the
Reich
, leaving the poor girl and his family behind.”

Gudrun shuddered.  Americans, she’d been told, regarded marriage as something that could be made or broken in an instant, but Germans took a more conservative view.  For a husband to betray his wife in such a manner ... it was unthinkable.  Even having an
affair
could make a husband a pariah in his community, while a wife could face criminal charges for defiling her marriage.  But then, in America, women had
rights
.  Certainly, they had more rights than any German woman would have, once she entered a marriage ...

She pushed the thought aside.  “I think you should tell the Chancellor,” she said.  “He has to know the truth.”

Horst frowned.  “Won’t that cause problems for you?”

“Probably,” Gudrun said.  If things had been different, she would have been Volker Schulze’s daughter-in-law.  But if things had been different, she would never have become Sigrún and
he
would never have become Chancellor.  “I think we have worse things to worry about right now.”

“I know,” Horst said.  He shook his head, slowly.  “It goes against the grain to have so many people
know
.”

Gudrun nodded, although she thought he was wrong.  Schulze - and his son - had both been in the
Waffen-SS
.  There were some people who would question Horst’s loyalties, after hearing that
he’d
been in the SS too, but she doubted Volker Schulze would be one of them.  Besides, Horst had had ample opportunity to nip the uprising in the bud if he’d wanted to, a point that was firmly in his favour. 

“I think he will keep it to himself,” Gudrun said, as she rose.  “Are there likely to be agents in the
Wehrmacht
too?”

“Everywhere,” Horst said.  “Disloyalty can come from anywhere and anyone, as my former instructors put it.”

“Including the SS itself,” Gudrun said.

Horst shrugged, then rose and gave her a tight hug.  Gudrun was tempted, just for a long moment, to pull him onto the bed, but there was no time.  Instead, she kissed him once and led the way towards the door, careful to keep a distance between them.  It was probably futile - there was no hope of keeping their relationship a secret now - but she wanted to keep it from her parents as long as possible.  Her father would go through the roof when he discovered she was practically living with someone before marriage.

Volker Schulze, she knew from past experience, worked late.  His wife and daughter - his sole remaining child - often nagged him to come home early, but Gudrun had heard that Schulze often worked until midnight.  There was just so much for him to master, before the war began, so much he needed to learn to keep more experienced political movers and shakers from outmanoeuvring him.  And yet, Gudrun couldn't help wondering what sort of strain it put on his married life. 
Her
mother hadn't been too happy when her father had started to come home late at night, after being given unpaid overtime by his superiors.

“Councillor,” Schulze’s secretary said.  He was a middle-aged man, easily old enough to be Gudrun’s father, someone who’d worked in one of the factories before Schulze had asked him to work for him personally.  “The Chancellor has asked not to be disturbed.”

“Please tell him that this is urgent,” Gudrun said.  She wondered, suddenly, if Schulze was taking advantage of the servants, then dismissed the thought.  It was unthinkable.  “We need to speak with him.”

The secretary nodded curtly, rose and hurried through the door.  Gudrun rather suspected he didn't like the idea of taking orders from a young girl - his daughter was only a year or two younger - but his dislike was the least of her concerns.  She waited, as patiently as she could, until the man returned.  He didn't look pleased.

“You may enter,” he said.

Gudrun thanked him and stepped through the door, into the
Reich
Chancellor’s office.  It was striking, she had to admit, even though Schulze had removed some of the more ornate decorations that had lined the walls.  Some of the paintings on the lower levels had been stolen from France, Gudrun had been told, even though the official line stated that the French had nothing worth stealing.  She wondered, absently, just what the provisional government should do with them.  Return them to the French ... or hide them away? 

“Gudrun,” Schulze said.  He stood from behind his desk, looking tired.  It was a bitter reminder that he was actually seven or eight years older than her father.  His eyes flickered across Horst for a long moment, then locked on her.  “What can I do for you?”

“We have a problem,” Gudrun said.  She glanced at Horst.  “Tell him.”

***

Volker Schulze kept his expression blank - with an effort - as Horst Albrecht outlined his story.  He hadn't paid too much attention to the younger man, seeing him as nothing more than one of Gudrun’s fellow students.  Indeed, their closeness could easily be explained by shared struggles against the world, rather than a romantic relationship that might predate Konrad’s death.  But to hear that Horst Albrecht was actually an SS observer ... it was maddening.  It was enough to make him wonder what else had escaped his notice over the last two weeks.