“Like lighting a fire,” Penelope said.
“Good use for them,” Andrew agreed. He caught sight of another pair of BDM girls and steered Penelope away from them. There was no point in collecting more leaflets. “But for everyone here… being caught using them for anything other than propaganda is a good way to get into trouble.”
Horst knew himself to be a brave man. He’d had no doubt he could handle himself since the first time his settlement had come under attack, when he’d been seven years old. His training in the Hitler Youth, then the SS had only honed his edge. He’d never truly doubted he could handle anything he faced. But now he was worried. Gudrun and the other girls were out in the square, handing out the leaflets, yet he could do nothing to help them. He listened to the police band with one ear – Sven had done a very good job, he had to admit – but if the police started to hunt for BDM imposters, there was nothing he could do to alert the girls.
We really need some small radios, he told himself. And a few other pieces of covert gear.
He scowled. He’d given the matter a great deal of thought, but he honestly couldn’t imagine how to get the equipment, at least not without raising too many questions. Besides, even if he could obtain a few radio sets they wouldn’t useful for very long. A handful of American spies had been caught because the SS had tracked their transmissions, pin-pointed the source and sent in the stormtroopers. He didn’t want Gudrun and the others to go the same way.
The radio buzzed. Horst felt a chill run down his spine as he listened to the message, then relaxed as he realised it had nothing to do with the girls. Someone had stolen a car and all policemen were to be on the lookout for it. Horst smirked – the car must have belonged to someone important – and then dismissed the matter. Anything that tied up the Berlin Police was useful, as far as he was concerned. He took another look at the timer and winced. Time was running out.
He reached instinctively for where his pistol should have been when he heard the sound of someone opening the rear door. Cursing – he hadn’t been allowed to take a pistol to the university – he glanced back, groping frantically for a heavy axe as the door opened and Gudrun stepped into the van. Letting out a sigh of relief, he let go of the axe as Gudrun closed the door behind her and smiled at him.
“Ready to sell your life dearly?”
“Yes,” Horst said, flatly. No matter what he’d told the group, he knew he wouldn’t survive once he was arrested. Those who went into the Reichssicherheitshauptamt – the Reich Main Security Office – never returned. Fighting – and perhaps forcing them to kill him – seemed the better option. “How did it go?”
“No trouble,” Gudrun said. She sounded pleased. “The others are back. I think we’d better go.”
“Understood,” Horst said. He turned back to the wheel and started the engine. “You get the uniform and wig off once we’re on the move. We really don’t want to be caught now.”
“Of course not,” Gudrun said.
Horst allowed himself a tight smile as he guided the van out onto the streets, then headed down the nearest road out towards the suburbs. The others would go in different directions, meeting up again near the university campus. If they were really lucky, they’d be able to return the wigs to the amateur theatrical group before anyone thought to look for them. He kept a sharp eye out for police cars as they slipped onto the main road and then gunned the engine. As long as they looked harmless, they would merge seamlessly with the whole and remain unnoticed.
The radio crackled. “This is Callsign Blue,” a voice said. Horst tensed; Callsign Blue was the Berlin Security Office. It didn’t sound as though the speaker was used to issuing orders over the radio. “All policemen within sectors one and two are to round up BDM girls and their matrons; I say again, all policemen within sectors one and two are to round up BDM girls and their matrons. Reinforcements have been dispatched.”
“They caught on,” Gudrun said. “Someone must have taken a leaflet to a policeman.”
“It certainly sounds that way,” Horst said. “Have you finished changing?”
He wasn’t particularly worried. Unless something had gone very wrong, all four vans were going to be well out of sectors one and two by the time the police started putting up barricades. He’d assumed the SS stormtroopers charged with defending the Reichstag would get involved, but it sounded like the police were taking the lead. Probably not a mistake on their part – the stormtroopers had live ammunition and were trained to use it – yet it only gave the group more time to make their escape.
“I have,” Gudrun said. She giggled, nervously. “I sure hope my father doesn’t see me like this.”
Horst glanced back, briefly. Gudrun’s shirt and jeans were almost painfully tight. He could see the outline of her bra against her shirt.
“I think your father will have other things to worry about,” he said, as he hastily turned his attention back to the road. “Did you see him while you were handing out leaflets?”
“I didn’t,” Gudrun said. She giggled, again. “We got away with it!”
“Don’t get overconfident,” Horst warned. “We haven’t even seen their official response to our leaflets.”
He was right, Gudrun knew. The police were acting faster than she’d feared, but they weren’t going to catch anything beyond a few hundred innocent girls. Chances were they’d confiscate the leaflets from everyone caught within the barricades, not keep the girls behind bars for very long. Who knew how their parents would react after finding out that their daughters, some as young as twelve, were being held by the police?
She found herself giggling, once again, as she realised just what they’d done. They’d walked through Victory Square itself, handing out seditious leaflets, and no one had noticed in time to try to stop them. That matron was going to be in deep trouble when she confessed she’d seen Gudrun and done nothing… and, if she gave the SS an accurate description of what she’d seen, it would lead them in entirely the wrong direction. Who knew? Maybe someone would assume the BDM itself had been handing out the leaflets, perhaps a rogue matron with a grudge against the state. It might even sound plausible…
“I feel funny,” she said. It reminded her of when she’d drunk a little wine the day she’d turned sixteen. Her head had felt strange for hours and she’d giggled like a little girl at everything, even unfunny jokes. “Is that normal?”
“It’s fairly normal,” Horst said. He parked the van in a lay-by, clambered out of his chair and came into the rear. “Did you hand out all of the leaflets?”
“Yep,” Gudrun said. She had to fight to hold down another fit of giggles. “Everything’s gone.”
Horst nodded, then opened a bag and packed the remains of her BDM uniform away. Gudrun was too giggly to help him, even though she hated leaving the task to him. His eyes swept the vehicle, looking for anything else that might prove incriminating. But there was nothing, save for the radio itself. Gudrun watched as he packed it into another bag, then placed both bags near the door.
“I’m going to drop you off near your house,” he said. “Take your uniform and return it to wherever you kept it. You probably shouldn’t be carrying it around at all.”
“I’d sooner burn it,” Gudrun said. “Can’t we just toss it into the fire?”