“I assume von Papen and von Ribbentrop are not possible,” said Schoerner, referring to the current and previous foreign secretaries.
Goebbels agreed. “Ribbentrop is an ass and von Papen is too old. That assumes, of course, that we could find him and bring him here. Albert Speer might be acceptable, but where is he? The last I heard, he was headed towards someplace near Hamburg.”
“I will make some contacts, Minister,” said Hahn. “If he is in the Hamburg area, it should not be too difficult to bring him here, via Switzerland of course.”
Schoerner was dubious. “I have serious doubts that anyone will recognize the nation of Germanica, much less negotiate with us. The Americans are in total control and will exert enormous pressure on countries to ignore us. Even some otherwise sympathetic nations like Argentina might wait a long while before recognizing us. I would think that the same would hold true with Spain. It may be quite a while before any major or even second tier nation acknowledges our existence.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Hahn. “How can anyone ignore us? We are here, aren’t we? We aren’t spirits or ghosts.”
Goebbels smiled tolerantly. “You still have a lot to learn, Major. Nations, especially victorious ones, can do what they wish and not necessarily what is right. And by the way, your work here in Bregenz has been above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Thank you, Minister.”
“It has occurred to me that you do not have enough rank to do your job properly. Therefore, I am promoting you to the temporary rank of SS-Brigadefuhrer. I understand it is equivalent to being a brigadier general in the American army.” He held out his hand, which was taken by a stunned Hahn. “Congratulations, General, now go and continue your good work. And someday you must tell me the truth about how your face got so badly bruised. I’ll bet she was a real tiger.”
Hahn laughed indulgently. He would never tell his leader and new Fuhrer that he’d been momentarily bested in combat by a woman and that his bruises had nothing to do with a sexual encounter. Well, almost nothing. In private he’d already contemplated the fate in store for the woman if he should ever find her.
“One other thing,” said Schoerner. “Has there been anything on the whereabouts of the physicist named Heisenberg? The non-Jew Abraham is very upset that he hasn’t turned up. Apparently, he is very important to the success of our nuclear program.”
Goebbels shrugged dismissively. “I don’t understand. He’s already told us he will succeed with the resources he currently has. Perhaps you should tell him that failure will not result in his being shot. Instead it will entail his being hanged by the neck by piano wire while his toes barely scrape the ground. I’m told that dying that way is lengthy and excruciating. Perhaps that bon mot of knowledge will motivate him.”
* * *
Lena and Sister Columba walked through the crowd of people waiting at the gate at the sprawling American army base. There seemed to be a line of sorts and there was some grumbling when they walked right up to the front of it. The guard, a young sergeant, seemed amused by the disturbance.
“And what can I do for you sisters?” he asked politely and in passable German.
Lena shocked him by responding in fluent English. “I would like to see a Roman Catholic priest and it is a matter of some urgency.”
“Perhaps I should call the officer of the guard and let him decide. Does what you want to talk to the priest about have anything to do with the Nazis?”
“In a way, but not what you suspect. It is also very personal, which is why I want to see a priest. I believe that chaplains are also officers, so why not let him decide about the officer of the guard after I have spoken to him.”
“Sounds fair,” said the sergeant. “Although I can’t imagine what kind of sins a nun like you has committed that requires such personal service.”
A few minutes later, Captain Richard Shanahan, chaplain and captain in the U.S. Army, arrived at the gate. “Why do you wish to speak with me, Sister, and I am told you understand English. That’s good since my miserable high school German hasn’t improved at all.”
Father Shanahan was short and slight. He wore glasses and was nearly bald. Lena guessed that he gave long sermons. “May we speak privately?”
Shanahan waved her inside the compound. The sergeant looked away. As always, what officers did was their business. “Now what is it, Sister?”
Lena spoke quickly to prevent Father Shanahan from cutting her off. “First, I may have killed two people. Second, I am neither a nun nor a Catholic. I was kept as a slave for several years by a family of Nazis. When I found that they were going to sell me to a munitions factory where people were worked to death, I escaped. Their two adult children tried to stop me and I know I hurt them badly. These nuns have sheltered me. They are saints, or they should be.”
“How much of this can you prove?”
Shanahan looked away when she reached under her habit and removed the cloth-wrapped pistol. The priest took it and whistled when he unwrapped it. “This came from the first war. It’s quite valuable,” he said.
“For a man of God, you understand weapons quite well.”
He chuckled. “I took vows of chastity and obedience, but not poverty of any kind. I like to hunt and, after all, I am in the army. So yes, I do understand weapons, and I do have many other vices. Now, what else do you have for me?”
She also showed him her identity papers, the ones that said she was a Jew. “But I am not a Jew.” She then gave him the papers she’d forged on Nazi letterhead and a pass once given her by Frau Schneider.
“You’ve been quite prudent and clever,” the priest said admiringly. “Now, what do you want from me?”
“I need a job, and a job in which I can use my skills to hurt the Nazis. I want to punish the people who killed my fiancé and probably murdered my father. I want to punish the people who kept me enslaved.”
“Your enslavement wasn’t all that horrible compared with others.”
“Agreed, but wasn’t it your Abraham Lincoln who said that to the extent a man is not free, he is a slave? And besides, they were about to sell me to a factory where I would have been worked to death.”
“Can you type and file?”
“Of course. And I can translate as well. As you see, I speak fluent English, which I can also read and write. The same is true with German and Czech.”
Shanahan grinned. “Well, we don’t have all that much call for Czech speakers, but one never knows. I do know that we are hurting for locals who weren’t members of the Nazi Party. Of course, everybody swears on their mother’s grave that they were never Nazis. So many do that it makes you wonder just how Adolf and two or three other guys took over Germany and much of the world. You certainly qualify for the honor of genuinely being a non-Nazi.”
Lena took a deep breath. Is this going to be the first step in leading a normal life? She turned and saw Sister Columba edging away. She waved and Columba waved back, still slowly leaving.
“Are you dressed decently under the habit?”
“Yes, and I have other clothes in the bag I brought.”
“Good. I’ll find you a place where you can change into something civilian and then I’ll introduce you to some people.”
“Thank you,” she said and started crying.
Father Shanahan gave her a handkerchief. It wasn’t terribly clean but it did help dry off her tears. “Lena Bobekova, let me be the first to welcome you to the 105th Infantry Division.”
* * *
The next morning, Winnie was still in terrible pain and could hardly walk. She managed to clean herself but she looked awful. The bruises on her face had darkened and the eye that was nearly swollen shut also had a ruptured blood vessel that made the white of her eye look scarlet. She looked like something from a cheap horror movie. She’d insisted that Ernie go to her apartment and get her a pair of sunglasses.