Storm Front (Twilight of the Gods Book 1) (24 page)

Her father gave her a sharp look.  “You studied Rome, didn’t you?”

“Yes, father,” Hilde said.  She'd found history boring, but she remembered a few details.  “I had to read about the Romans for school.”

“Brutus killed Julius Caesar,” her father said.  “Do you recall that part of the story?”

Hilde shrugged.  Her lessons had centred around the great Teutonic heroes who’d brought down the Italians and established, once and for all, that Germans would never be slaves as long as they stood united.  She recalled Julius Caesar, but only in passing.

“Brutus and his comrades had no plan for what would happen after Julius Caesar was brutally murdered,” her father said, after a moment.  “He had no idea how to capitalise on his success, so he did nothing as events slipped out of hand.  And so, instead of the successful restoration of the Roman Republic, Emperor Augustus rose to power.”

“I see, father,” Hilde said.

“Go,” her father said.  “I have a meeting now, but I’ll see your mother and yourself at dinnertime.”

Hilde nodded, rose and left the room.  It might have been an accident, but her father had given her something to think about.  And something, she knew, she would have to discuss with the rest of the group as soon as possible.  Who knew what would happen if the
Reich
came apart at the seams?

***

“You weren't seen, were you?”

“I don’t believe so,” Andrew Barton said.  Walking through the richest part of Berlin was far safer than trying to sneak through the suburbs.  “As long as the papers you provided are in good order, I shouldn't have been in trouble even if I had been stopped by the police.”

He smiled as Arthur Morgenstern sat back in his chair.  The man was deeply corrupt - and desperate for ready cash.  Slipping him a few hundred thousand dollars had been more than enough to turn him into a source, although - as always - Andrew had to remember that the SS might be playing him, rather than the other way around.  Morgenstern was genuine, as far as he could tell, but there was always a quiet nagging doubt. 

“That’s good,” Morgenstern said, after a moment.  “There have been developments.”

Andrew took a seat and leaned forward.  “What sort of developments?”

“Threats of a new set of trade unions in various corporations,” Morgenstern said.  “And people whispering about those damnable leaflets.  Even my
wife
knows what they are.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Andrew said, sincerely. 
Frau
Morgenstern would have made an excellent source, if she hadn't been more determined to build up her own power base than assist the United States.  “And your daughter?”

“Denies everything,” Morgenstern said.  He looked up, suddenly.  “Could you offer her a scholarship to Caltech?”

“I could arrange for her to be selected, if she puts her name on the lists,” Andrew said.  The university would kick up a fuss - and the FBI wouldn't be any happier - but the OSS had more than enough clout to make sure that Hilde Morgenstern was safely out of the
Reich
for a couple of years.  “Does she have genuine potential?”

“Her marks are good,” Morgenstern assured him.  “I’m sure she could pass the entrance exam.”

That
proved nothing, Andrew knew.  Caltech would try to reject her if she
didn't
pass the exam - and they’d be furious if Andrew’s superiors insisted on allowing her to attend anyway.  But competition was fierce at Speer University, he had to admit.  Hilde Morgenstern wouldn't have managed to get as far as she had if she hadn't had genuine talent along with her family’s connections.

Morgenstern sighed, loudly.  “First we had problems in France, now we have problems in the
Reich
itself,” he added, leaning back in his chair.  “I don’t like the idea of new trade unions.”

“I suppose you wouldn't,” Andrew agreed.  “I thought they were banned.”

“Oh, they are,” Morgenstern said.  “And the workers should know it.  There are government unions to take care of their requirements.  But they’re ignoring the rules.”

Andrew wasn’t surprised.  The only hint of socialism in Nazi Germany lay within the Nazi Party’s name - National Socialism.  In reality, the corporations made big donations to the
Reich’s
government and, in exchange, all independent trade unions were banned.  Anyone who tried to found one could expect to be fired and jailed, perhaps exiled to the east, in short order.  And yet, as the
Reich’s
economy tightened and pay checks grew thinner, it was harder and harder for the bosses to intimidate the workers into silence.

“That could be a problem,” he agreed, dryly.  “What have your masters decided to do about it?”

“Nothing, as yet,” Morgenstern admitted.  “I think they’re hoping the whole problem will just go away.”

“They thought that before the Great Depression too,” Andrew reminded him.  “But it didn’t.”

“No, it didn't,” Morgenstern agreed.

He was frightened, Andrew realised.  Given his position in the Ministry of Industry, he had good reason to know the full scale of the problem.  Andrew hadn't been sure what, if anything, to make of the leaflets, but if
Morgenstern
was worried...

“And if it doesn't go away,” he said carefully, “what do you think they’ll do?”

“Something drastic,” Morgenstern said.  “And I want my daughter out of the
Reich
before that happens.”

Andrew nodded.  “We’ll see what we can do,” he said.  “But she will have to pass the exams,
Herr
Morgenstern.  Anything else would be far too revealing.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Wieland House, Berlin

6 August 1985

Gudrun lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Her parents hadn't been particularly demanding, much to her relief, ever since Konrad’s father had called
Gudrun’s
father and had a long - and private - discussion with him over the telephone.  Gudrun hadn’t been sure how her father would react - particularly if he realised that she’d known Konrad was crippled
before
his father had found out - but he’d largely left her alone, while her mother had only given her a handful of chores to do when she got home from the university.  In some ways, it was a relief, but she had a nasty feeling that the
Reichmark
was about to drop.   How long would it be before her father started nagging her to find a husband - or presented her with a list of suitable candidates?

And Konrad was going to die.

She'd known he wasn't going to recover completely, if he ever made it off the life support machine, but she’d dared to hope that they might have a life together.  Now, she could no longer cling to the illusion.  Konrad’s father would turn the machine off, once he actually
found
his son; he wouldn't leave his son’s shattered mind trapped in a crippled body.  It wasn't fair, Gudrun’s thoughts mocked her; no one had seriously considered telling Grandpa Frank that it was time to die, to go on to the next world, even though he was a disgusting old man.  But what had Konrad done to deserve such injuries?  He’d been young and strong and the world was at his feet.

And it killed him
, she thought, bitterly.  How many times had he sat beside her on the bed, sneaking kisses despite the open door?  She wasn't sure she could bring herself to kiss anyone, ever again; she’d practically betrayed Konrad by kissing Horst, even though it had been in the heat of the moment. 
Konrad did everything right and he was still betrayed by his own government
.

She wanted to sit up, she wanted to do something, but she couldn't muster the energy to do anything more than lie on the bed.  There were chores she needed to do, she was sure, and homework she needed to finish before going back to the university, yet it was so hard to focus her mind.  If her father saw her latest set of marks, he’d blow a fuse; Gudrun knew, without false optimism, that her grades had slipped badly.  And yet, between the knowledge of what had happened to Konrad and her own work with the leaflets, it was hard to focus on her studies.  What sort of future did she have if nothing changed?

There was a tap on the door.  She looked up.  Her father was standing there, looking worried; Gudrun sat upright hastily and beckoned him into the room.  She couldn't keep her heart from pounding, although she was fairly sure she wasn't in trouble.  Her father rarely entered her room unless she
was
.  It was her mother who normally inspected it each weekend and snapped at her to clean up her mess, place clean clothes in the drawers and wash her dirty outfits in the sink.

“Gudrun,” her father said, sitting on the bed next to her.  “I am truly sorry.”

“Thank you,” Gudrun said.  She wasn't used to her father being sympathetic - or understanding.  Even when he’d bawled out the BDM matron, he’d given Gudrun a look that promised she’d be in hot water as soon as she got home.  “Konrad... Konrad meant everything to me.”

“Your mother means everything to
me
,” her father said, uncomfortably.  “But if she died, she wouldn't want me to just give up.”

Gudrun stared down at her hands.  “I’m not feeling suicidal, father.”

“Good,” her father said, dryly.  “I’d hate to have to take you to hospital.”

Gudrun flinched.  A person who showed suicidal tendencies could be committed to a mental health institution and held indefinitely.  Gudrun had heard enough horror stories about what happened behind their locked doors to know she never wanted to step into one, certainly not while there was breath in her body.  She
had
heard of a couple of students who’d committed suicide under the pressure, but it was very rare.  Students at the university weren’t encouraged to wallow in self-pity.

“I just don’t want to think about anything else at the moment,” she said, carefully.  “He was proud of me, father.  I don’t want to let him down.”

“I’m proud of you,” her father said.

You don’t understand me
, Gudrun thought.  Her father had always gotten on better with his sons, taking them to play football and camping in the hills while Gudrun had stayed with her mother. 
You would have been happy if I’d been born male too
.

“I approved of Konrad,” her father said, after a moment.  “SS he might have been, but he was a good lad and would have taken care of you.”

“I don't need a man to take care of me,” Gudrun snapped.  “I’m not... I’m not going to be a housewife.”

Her father gave her a long considering look.  “And if you graduate with the highest marks in your class,” he said, “what will happen then?”

“There aren’t enough computer experts in the
Reich
,” Gudrun said.  She allowed a hint of sarcasm to run through her voice.  “I may be a weak and feeble woman, father, but they won’t be able to dismiss me because I was born the wrong gender.”

“I hope you’re right,” her father said.  “But you do need to consider finding a new husband.”

Gudrun stared at him.  It was easy to sound horrified - and tearful.  “Konrad isn't even
dead
yet!”

“But he will be,” her father said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  “And even if they keep him on life support, he will not be a suitable husband.  He will not be able to father children.”

Gudrun shuddered.  She did not want to have
that
discussion with her father.  Her mother had discussed how babies were made when she’d bled for the first time - she remembered that it had almost been a relief, because she’d been convinced she was desperately ill - and the BDM had explained it in clinical detail, but discussing it with her father would be far too embarrassing.  She recalled Konrad’s bandaged body, lying in the hospital bed, and shuddered again.  His genitals had been blown off by the blast.

She took refuge in anger.  “Father, is having children the sole purpose of my life?”

Her father frowned.  “You are a young woman,” he said.  “The longer you wait before having children, Gudrun, the harder it will be to get pregnant and bring the child to term.  If you wait too long, you simply won’t be
able
to have children.”

“And if I do,” Gudrun said, “I’ll be trapped in the house.”

“Your mother rules the house,” her father pointed out.

“But she is trapped,” Gudrun countered.  “She has to look after three little brats who don’t do anything to help...”

“You had your own bratty stage,” her father said, sarcastically.

“That’s not the point,” Gudrun said.  “Kurt, Johan and Siegfried do nothing around the house - they don’t even pick up the trash in their rooms.  Johan and Siegfried threw a fit when mother told
me
to clean their room, but they weren't willing to do it for themselves.  And even if mother goes back to work when Siegfried turns eighteen and gets a job of his own, she’ll have given up the best years of her life.”

Her father’s face darkened.  “If she
hadn't
had children,” he said, “you wouldn't exist.”

“I know,” Gudrun said.  It was true, after all.  There was no point in trying to deny it.  “But I want to be something more than a housewife and mother, endlessly picking up after my children.”

“You’re a young woman,” her father said.  “You were
born
to be a mother.”

“It doesn't seem fair,” Gudrun objected.  How could she expect her father, the lord and master of the household, to understand?  “Why do
I
have to be a mother?”

Her father gave her a long look.  “No one would expect you to go to work,” he said, after a moment.  “You are not expected to go to war, or work in a factory, or do anything to bring in money for your family.  Your husband, Gudrun, will be considered a failure if he
doesn't
ensure you have everything you need.  He will be roundly mocked if his wife is in rags and his children are naked...”

“And then he will get drunk and take it out on his wife,” Gudrun said.  She’d never seen her father hitting her mother, but she’d known a couple of girls in school who’d had terrifyingly violent fathers.  No one had cared when they’d come to school sporting nasty bruises they refused to talk about, let alone show to the matrons.  “And the wife has no rights at all.”

She looked down at her hands.  The BDM matrons had gone over the responsibilities of a wife in some detail, assuring their charges that a
proper
housewife was loyal, obedient and never complained, let alone committed adultery.  If she did, Gudrun had been told, she could expect to lose custody of the kids, if she didn't wind up in jail.  Gudrun recalled asking just why the husband was allowed to commit adultery, if his wife didn't have the same rights, and being forced to write lines as punishment.  Her mother hadn't found it very amusing when Gudrun, her hand aching, had been sent home with a note.  In hindsight, Gudrun couldn't help wondering if her mother’s angry reaction had been fuelled by her awareness of her own helplessness.

“That’s not always true,” her father said.  “There have been men who’ve defended battered wives...”

“But the wives don’t get to defend themselves,” Gudrun said.  Something would have to be done, she was sure.  Women’s rights were just another issue for the next leaflets, once they readied themselves to distribute a second set.  “They may not be lucky enough to have defenders.”

“You’ll have me,” her father said.  “And your brothers.  They won’t hesitate to come to your defence.”

“Siegfried might,” Gudrun muttered.  Her little brother blamed her for the thrashing he’d received from their father, five days ago.  “He hates me.”

“He’ll get over it,” her father assured her.  “I thought I hated my sisters too, once upon a time.”

He cleared his throat.  “I understand that you are in mourning,” he said, “and I will give you as much time as I can, but you do need a husband.”

Gudrun shook her head, mutely.

“I’m not going to let you run free without a man,” her father said, firmly.  “You are young, beautiful and intelligent.  You’ll have no trouble finding another boyfriend.”

“Widows get at least a year before they’re expected to remarry,” Gudrun muttered.

“You’re not a widow,” her father pointed out.  “And you’re not pregnant.”

Gudrun rolled her eyes, even though she knew it would annoy him.  The whole system was strange, at least when she applied logic and reason.  She knew she wasn't supposed to have sex before marriage, but her father wouldn't have objected if she became pregnant out of wedlock, provided she married her boyfriend before she started to show.  No one would be particularly surprised when a bride proved able to produce a child quicker than a properly-wedded wife.

But then, producing the next generation of Germans is an important goal
, she thought, recalling the BDM’s lectures.  It was their duty, as maidens, to marry, have children and raise them to become good little servants of the
Reich
.  A handful of girls becoming pregnant before marriage, as long as there
was
a marriage, was hardly a problem. 
They just want us to have babies and raise them
.

Her father gave her a brief hug.  “I know this is hard for you,” he said.  Gudrun rather doubted that he
did
understand.  “But your time is running out.”

And if I don’t find someone
, Gudrun thought nastily,
you’ll find someone for me
.