Chosen of the Valkyries (Twilight Of The Gods Book 2) (37 page)

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.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Berlin, Germany Prime

25 October 1985

“All is in readiness,
Herr Hauptsturmfuehrer
,”
Strumscharfuehrer
Brandt said, as the sun started to peep over the horizon.  “We are just waiting on the order to move.”

“Yeah, we must wait for the order to attack before attacking,”
Hauptsturmfuehrer
Hennecke Schwerk mused.  “To launch without support would be disastrous.”

He smiled as he inspected the men.  Four days of rest and recuperation - and intercourse and intoxication - had done wonders for morale.  The men had been able to sleep in comfortable beds for two nights, often sharing them with girls eager to show the
Waffen-SS
stormtroopers that black uniforms were still the very height of fashion for young men.  Hennecke himself had spent two days in bed with a blonde girl who might have been a boring conversationalist, but knew precisely what to do with her mouth and breasts to give a man a very good time indeed.  By the time he’d headed back to the lines - and sent the girl to the next stormtrooper who required servicing - he felt so much better that he was tempted to lead the charge into Berlin himself.

And that girl wants to regain her racial certificate
, he thought, nastily. 
And the only way to do that is to carry an Aryan child to term
.

“I assume the reservists kept prodding the defenders,” he said.  “Did they actually learn anything useful?”

“Very little,” Brandt said.  “They confirm that the enemy has dug in over there” - he smiled as he jabbed a finger towards Berlin - “but very little else.”

Hennecke shrugged.  The stormtroopers might have been pulled out of the line, but the shooting had never actually stopped.  Intelligence kept insisting that the enemy was on the verge of running out of bullets and, for once, Hennecke was inclined to believe they were right.  He'd heard enough rumours about ammunition shortages confronting the
Waffen-SS
to make it easy to believe that the enemy would have the same problem.  And Berlin was completely sealed off from the rest of the
Reich
.  They didn't have a hope of shipping more ammunition into the city.

They could try to fly it in
, he thought. 
But we have enough air defences surrounding the city to make it very difficult
.

He glanced at Brandt.  “Did you hear anything about the timing?”

“No,
Herr Hauptsturmfuehrer
,” Brandt said.  “There’s no set time for the offensive.”

“Odd,” Hennecke mused.  Taking advantage of a fluid battleground was one thing, but preparing an offensive without setting a start time was odd.  If nothing else, some units could practically be relied upon not to get the word and sit on their asses while everyone else engaged the enemy.  “But I'm sure they have their reasons.”

He sighed, then turned to look towards Berlin.  The battleground was a wasteland, countless buildings knocked down by gunfire or blown up by emplaced IEDs.  Hennecke knew just how lucky he had been to escape being wounded or killed in any one of a dozen traps he’d stumbled across during the endless battle.  And yet, one final push might just be enough to destroy the enemy defences and carry the stormtroopers into Berlin itself.

And then we can put an end to the war
, he thought.

***

Horst hated to admit it, but he was terrified.

Not terrified for himself, he knew.  He’d long since grown used to the idea of putting his fragile body at risk.  Growing up in Germany East - where one might have to fight at any time - had shaped his mindset, reassuring him that it was better to die in battle than watch helplessly as his family were ravished or murdered by
Untermenschen
.  But putting Gudrun in danger was something else.  The thought of losing her was terrifying.

He was her husband.  He had a right - he knew he had a right - to tell her what to do.  And yet he also knew that trying to enforce that right would destroy their relationship.  No one could object - legally - if he laid down the law to her and enforced it with his fists, but
Gudrun
would never tolerate it.  He’d never be able to sleep next to her again, not without having her slit his throat while he was sleeping.  And yet, it was almost worth it just to know she would survive.

But she’s right
, the coolly pragmatic part of his mind observed. 
There’s no other way to lure the cell into the open
.

He cursed under his breath as he led the way down to the car.  He’d done everything he could to guarantee success, placing trustworthy soldiers in position to intercept the commandos when they finally showed themselves.  And if everything went according to plan,
Gudrun
would never be in any real danger.  A volunteer, wearing a blonde wig, would play her role long enough to lure the commandos into the open.  Gudrun should be safe and sound in the bunker when all hell was let loose.

And yet he knew, all too well, that too many things could go badly wrong.

Gudrun looked nervous, he noted, as they stopped by the car.  The driver didn't look much better.  He’d been trained in evasive driving - Horst had read his record very carefully before authorising him to work as Gudrun’s driver - but deliberately leading someone into a trap was new.  And using the person he was supposed to protect as bait ... Horst was surprised the man hadn't objected more forcefully.  No close-protection team worthy of the name would want
anything
to do with the plan. 

“This is your last chance to change your mind,” he muttered.  The driver opened the door, then turned and headed back to the front seat.  “You can back out now and no one will think any less of you.”

“Because I’m a woman,” Gudrun said, crossly.  They’d argued for hours as the plan came together, Horst trying to talk her out of it while Gudrun insisting they went ahead.  He still found it hard to believe that she’d come up with the plan, then forced it though despite opposition from both her father and husband.  “No one expects much from me either.”

“Seems a better deal than we get,” Horst said.  He’d seen how pride could keep a man fighting when a tactical withdrawal to a superior position would probably have worked better, in the long run.  “A man who backed out now would be branded a coward.”

Gudrun gave him a sharp look, then settled into the car.  She’d insisted on wearing trousers, rather than a dress.  Horst was torn between admiring her insistence on practicality and worrying about soldiers admiring his wife’s shapely legs.  But at least they would let her move quickly if there was an emergency.  She’d even spent the last few nights in the shooting range, mastering the small pistol he’d given her.  Maybe allowing her to burn through so much ammunition was wasteful, but at least it meant she could defend herself, if necessary.

Unless she loses the pistol
, Horst thought.  Gudrun was fit - the BDM had made sure of that, if nothing else - but she was no match for a grown man, particularly one who had had intensive combat training.  Stormtroopers who had their asses kicked by women only existed in bad American propaganda. 
If she loses the pistol, she’s in deep shit
.

He settled in after her, feeling an uncomfortable churning in his stomach.  The driver started the engine as Horst leaned backwards, trying hard to calm himself.  He hadn't felt so bad since the day he’d reported for basic training, when he’d discovered that all the practical work he’d done trying to get ready for the
Waffen-SS
had been largely futile.  His instructors hadn't hesitated to tell him precisely what they thought of him too.  He’d honestly believed the bastards would arrange a training accident if they thought he couldn't or wouldn't come up to scratch.

“Let’s go,” he said.

The car slowly rolled out of the garage, passing through two checkpoints without stopping and turning onto the empty road.  Their outriders, sirens howling, joined them seconds later, the riders watching carefully for signs of trouble.  Horst forced himself to relax, one hand fingering the pistol at his belt as he waited.  They had nearly four hours before all hell was due to kick off.  He could wait until then ...

The waiting is always the worst
, he reminded himself, grimly. 
I’ll feel better when the shooting actually starts
.

***

Katharine Milch waited behind, keeping her weapons well out of sight, as two of her team - dressed in police uniforms - rousted the homeless out of the ambush site.  It wasn't ideal, but there were very few truly
ideal
places in Berlin.  No matter what she did, she was sure an alert would go out at once and armed troops would rush to the rescue.  The timing might just be in their favour - reading between the lines, she rather suspected that the main phase of the final offensive was due to kick off soon - yet it would be no consolation to her team if they were caught in the open.

Limited room to manoeuvre
, she told herself.  If all went according to plan, the target and her escorts would be trapped, completely at her mercy. 
And if we get out before they respond, we should get away clean
.

“That’s the place cleared,” Hans called.  “We can move in now.”

“Do it,” Katherine ordered.

She glanced at her watch, grimly, as they took up positions.  Timing was everything - and yet the timing could not be precise.  They were dependent on matters outside their control, matters she knew couldn't be controlled without giving the game away far too soon. If the bodyguard acted fast - and he wouldn't be expecting her move - the entire operation could fail completely.  But then, if it
did
fail, she’d have ample time to break contact and vanish before it was too late.

And then we can join the other cells
, she thought, tartly. 
At least our time won’t be completely wasted
.

***

Gudrun could tell that Horst was worried, even though he was doing a very good job of pretending to be unconcerned.  He was slumped back in his chair, his eyes half-closed, instead of holding her in his arms or talking quietly.  She knew he wouldn't be concerned about the driver - they
were
married, after all - but about the plan.  Using his wife as live bait couldn't sit well with him.

At least he let me do it
, she thought.  She had no desire for a real fight, no desire to find out if he would keep his word to let her have an independent life.  It spoke well of him, she supposed, that he
was
letting her be bait.  And yet, was it really a good sign?  Horst might have been a better husband if he’d refused. 
But if he lets me do this, he can hardly object to me being on the council
...

The car shook violently, twisting and turning as it slammed into one of the outriders and roared into a side road.  Horst started, one hand drawing his pistol, as gunfire broke out; Gudrun looked up, just in time to see two of the remaining outriders blown off their motorbikes before it was too late.  The driver slammed the partition between the driving seat and the passenger compartment, the doors unlocking seconds later as the vehicle lurched to a halt.  Horst swore out loud as the gunfire grew louder, a handful of bullets pinging off the car as the attackers - whoever they were - took care of the final set of outriders.

“Stay down,” Horst snapped, pulling her to the ground.  “Keep your head down!”

Gudrun nodded as she reached for her pistol.  Something had gone badly wrong ... no, they’d been driven right into an ambush.  The driver had betrayed them!  She looked up in alarm as the door opened, then realised that Horst was slipping out of the vehicle.  Two more gunshots echoed out before he managed to slam the door.  Gudrun barely had a moment to pray before the door nearest to her was yanked open and a strong arm caught hold of her.  The driver leered down at her as he tugged her into the street.

“Bastard,” Gudrun swore, bringing up the pistol.  The driver’s eyes went wide as she pulled the trigger four times, feeling the weapon jerking in her hand.  She wasn't a good shot, not compared to Horst or the instructors on the shooting range, but she could hardly miss at point-blank range.  “You ...”