Lucja took a step backwards.
“I'm sorry. I don't mean to be crude. But these moods of hers, they're really quite ridiculous. As if I don't have enough to worry about. For God's sake, the weight of The Republic is resting on the army here, and it's resting on me to maintain order until things are finished.”
Taking another step back, she looked at him and judged it best to be silent. The man liked to talk, and the faster he got it out of his system, the faster she would be out of here.
“It's resting on your father, too.”
“What?” Amongst the turmoil, she'd nearly forgotten they were not just being funneled from one point to the next; her father had a purpose, or rather, they had a purpose for him. To hear it stated as plainly as this brought with it more feelings than she was willing to handle: pride, sorrow, fear, resentment. Perhaps this last most of all, though it was even more unwelcome than the rest.
“We need him to help us fight this thing here. Or to control it, I should say. Kriege thinks the stuff might be from another world. Do you believe that?” He laughed, his teeth sticking out like points on a picket fence. Without thinking, she turned to the left and looked over the west wall of the tower. She could see the crater there, those incredible growths reaching up from it.
“In any case, I'm sure he will do his part. The commander here does not like excuses. You should remind him of that.”
“I… I will.”
“Good. It will give us a chance to talk as well. I'd like that. Oh, I know I can talk to the men, but it's not quite the same.”
“But I'm a prisoner.”
“Well, you're a civilian. I know there's some measure of formality, but… it will pass the time.” He was looking at her intently, his eyes tracing the line of her neck, the curve of her nose. Not as one might look at a good meal, thankfully, but as one might look at a painting when one wasn't quite sure what to make of it. “Aside from that, it will give us a chance to talk about Mieke.”
“Mieke?”
He reached down and plucked the paper from her hands. She was gripping it so tightly that a corner of the page tore. For just a moment, the rage crept back onto his face, and then it was gone. “It's all right,” he said. “I shouldn't have snatched it. The letter still makes me angry. I suppose I should store it somewhere I don't have to look at it.”
“We can talk about her, if you like.”
He smiled. “Good. Because I need you to help me win her back.”
“Win her back?”
“This is obviously one of her games to get attention. She's either trying to get me to come back early or trying to make me jealous from afar. Or both. I need help either way. I'm stuck here just the same as you, and I can't have her gallivanting around town with another man, even if it is just for show.”
“If there even is another man.”
“Yes!” he agreed. “If there is, as you say. But, I should tell her I love her, and that I'm not going to play these foolish games with her. Do you agree?”
Lucja nodded. She was beginning to feel like the head of a fishing bobber.
“Very good. Then you can help me write to her.”
“I can?”
“Yes, of course you can. You're of a smart people, and you're obviously a woman. You have insight. I know that just from our short time together. Tell me you agree?”
Lucja said that she did, not sure which of his points she was agreeing to, and not caring. The lieutenant was beginning to get dangerously close to her. She didn't think he was doing it consciously, but he was close enough now where she could feel the heat of his breath.
“I think I have to get home now.”
His expression soured. “Oh, am I boring you?”
“No! No, of course not. But Zofia… she's all by herself. And we're new here. And I… I don't like to leave her alone.”
“Yes. Yes of course, you're right. Your father is not in the bunker, and she is very young. Where are my manners?” He finally seemed to soften. “I think it's going to be a long winter. The sun will be down in a few weeks.” Harald pointed towards the horizon, what was once giant and bright on the mainland now nothing more than a small mound against the mountains. It was as if the sun itself was a prisoner, awaiting its death and burial beneath the line of the sea.
She was afraid for a moment that he was never going to move, but he did, and she realized just how much of a relief it was. It was an odd thing, how close he had been, far too close for a man she didn't like. Even pretending had its limits.
“Goodbye, Lieutenant.”
Mounting the ladder, Harald helped balance her again, and in moments, she was climbing down. Hans was there to meet her at the bottom. The pair of them walked back across the base, a sea of troubled thoughts circling in her mind. By coincidence, she happened to see one of the other men from the ship, Jan, heading towards the vehicle depot. He noticed the pair of them, and he did an odd thing, then. He gave them both a little wave. For no particular reason, Lucja waved back.
She fingered the screwdriver in her pocket, thinking about little Zofia alone in the bunker. Thinking about her mother, alone in a dank cell in Neuengamme. Thinking about her father holding the ax over his head, and what she might do if she were ever in the same position.
Chapter 13: Extreme Prejudice
1
Kate was so stunned that at first, she didn't make a sound. Then the pain hit her, and she shrieked. Mason was dragging her like a sack of grain, pulling her by the hair.
“Let me go!”
He punched her then, a quick, hard shot to the chin. Her head reeled. When she opened her eyes, another building loomed in front of her. She tried to remember something from her youth, a self defense throw, kick, something. But it was happening too fast. He was too goddamned big.
Mason pulled her in front of him. “Vy, get the door, would you?”
There was the sound of metal creaking — a giant hinge on a giant door. Or maybe not so giant, just sinister, just final.
She kicked out hard, slamming her foot into his shin. When it hit, she pulled her hand out of her pocket, her key chain gripped tightly between her fingers. A single key stuck out between her knuckles, and on instinct, she stabbed him with it. She felt the key sink into his arm, hard metal into soft meat. Mason barely grunted. He slammed her into the wall, and she dropped it, her last, pitiful weapon.
“No!” she screamed. “No!”
Mason threw her through the open doorway, her body twisting as it collapsed onto the concrete. She scrambled to her feet, reaching the door just as it slammed in her face. The sound of a lock clicked into place.
“You bastard! Why are you doing this?” It sounded foolish, but to her surprise, she got an answer.
“Because if they found the vice president's daughter full of bullet holes, it would be a hell of a thing to explain, that's why. The odds of anyone finding you are next to nothing, but it's not a chance I'm willing to take. Better you die of natural causes, princess. I thought we might have to drop you off the side of The Aeschylus with an anchor tied to your feet, but this is easier.”
“What are you talking about?” she cried.
“It's much easier to deal with two targets at once than three. And if it wasn't for your stupid indiscretion, we'd only have one. But I guess you passed that sentence this morning, didn't you?”
“What do you mean?” she yelled. “What do you mean?” But that question didn't need answering, because she knew what he meant just fine.