Disclaimer: As before.
Many thanks to people who have reviewed this story (especially to GypsyWitchBaby – I like your comments very much), added it to favourites, alerted it or simply read it and are waiting for more. Constructive criticism welcome, nothing's changed here.
It took me even longer than before – life, job, and my daughter, who is addicted to hugging. But, finally, Chapter 7 is ready.
By way of explanation: Strasse der Polizei is the name used by the Nazi for Szucha Avenue in Warsaw, where the Gestapo main office was located (the pronunciation of Szucha is something like 'shoe' + 'ha', more or less). Governor Frank mentioned later in the story is Hans Frank, the governor of the occupied Poland.
Enjoy.
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7. The job interview
'Stiglitz,' Aldo hissed impatiently. Honestly, when it came to weird behaviour like stopping in mid-sentence and staring vacantly into space, his German soldier was probably in his element. But psychopath or not, he should have known there was no time for a break. Especially when the number of questions his commander wanted to ask the girl had just increased dramatically and the whole night might not be enough to get all the answers from her. Not that he planned to keep questioning her till dawn, still the sooner the better.
The only advantage of Stiglitz's sudden reverie was that she was becoming more and more anxious and this in turn suited Aldo just fine. Better nervous than insolent.
'Stiglitz,' he repeated. 'Go on.'
This time Hugo's eyes moved to the lieutenant at once and although Aldo's voice still seemed distant, it shook him out of contemplation. Then he shot a look at Wicki and although he did not voice any request, the Austrian took a crumpled packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and handed it to him, which made Aldo wonder, not for the first time, when exactly that thread of understanding had been established between these two.
'I went to the Gestapo Headquarters in Strasse der Polizei,' Stiglitz finally returned to his story and his gaze moved to Sophie, who was observing him nervously, her eyes intense and dark.
'Szucha Avenue,' she corrected almost automatically, her voice strained as if the name itself carried a harbinger of nightmares.
'That's right,' Stiglitz confirmed after a while. 'I met a schoolmate there, a man I knew from Frankfurt. His name was Otto and he worked in the same department as the officer I was looking for. And he told me where to find Schultz.' He stopped for a moment to light a cigarette and took a long drag, but she waited patiently, trying to read from his features what was wrong. That something was wrong was sure as hell.
'When I reached the right room, there was an interrogation in progress. Schultz was interrogating a prisoner. A young woman you should know,' his eyes found hers again. 'Long black hair. Curly,' he added and that definitely hit a nerve, as her face visibly paled and her eyes widened. But she did not say a word, so he continued in a detached voice.
'She had been arrested three days before in an ordinary round-up. That's what Otto told me later. They caught about twenty people in a street and while they were being forced onto the truck, a man pulled out a gun and tried to escape. He killed two SS men before they shot him down. And that girl was unlucky to stand next to him, so they decided to check her.' Stiglitz paused again and for a moment he focused his attention on the cigarette and a puff of smoke he let out obscured his face for a while, but she did not gaze away from him.
'When they were searching her, they found several coded messages and two ID papers, presumably false. Enough to hand her over to the Gestapo. She also had a photograph of herself and another girl in a park. And you,' this time he met her eyes with no hesitation, 'were the other girl in the photo, so first they questioned her about you.' She nodded, shutting her eyes for a moment, and then gestured him to continue.
He looked at her for a while, ghastly images of what he had seen in the interrogation room twirling before his eyes, and when he started to speak again, his words were carefully chosen.
'Schultz was responsible for squeezing information out of her and he saw to it that she knew they meant business. They massacred her,' he added and Donowitz's eyes moved from Stiglitz to the girl and back.
'They wanted to kill her because of a stupid photo?' he snorted unbelievingly at the absurdity of what he had just heard.
'No.' Stiglitz gave him a hard stare. 'They killed her because she was stubborn and refused to cooperate. She had been caught carrying incriminating evidence and it was obvious she worked for the Resistance. Schultz wanted her to give him names and addresses and her obstinacy infuriated him.' He stubbed out a cigarette in a rusty tin they used as an ashtray and as much as he wanted to avoid her eyes, he looked at Sophie again.
'Her name was Anna,' she said in a low voice, fighting a lump in her throat. 'We had no idea that Gestapo arrested her. We didn't have any contact at Szucha Avenue, any possibility to check if she was there.' She dropped her gaze to her hands, wondering how and when her nails had dug into her skin, leaving deep, bloody, crescent-shaped traces.
'Contact?' Aldo interrupted only to distract her. Granted, occasionally she irritated him to the core, but he could still muster the little empathy he possessed. And, more importantly, he did not really want either hysterics or madness in his tent.
She looked up at him. 'A bribed guard. Or a doctor forced by the German to examine their prisoners, to prepare them for another interrogation. Some of those doctors worked for us. If they had kept her in prison, we would have known it.'
'Was she a friend of yours? A relative?'
She nodded. 'A friend. When she disappeared, we had no clue. Three weeks later her family got a message from the prison. They…,' she hesitated momentarily, feeling the lump in her throat grow to the extent where talking was almost painful, 'they informed her parents that she died of typhoid and was buried in a mass grave.'
Stiglitz gave her an odd look that did not go unnoticed and she looked at him questioningly. He let out a frustrated sigh, fighting an internal battle. He could leave it unsaid. Yet he had promised her the truth. 'She had no chance to die of any disease. She didn't leave that room alive.'
She took a deep breath, fighting tears. But as much as she did not want them to see her crying, she eventually failed, feeling wet, cold trickles on her cheeks and she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand. Donny, who was still sitting next to her, shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether or not he was expected, or wanted, to do something about this. Wicki, however, did not have such dilemmas and he poured the wine into the only clean mug left and passed it to her with a gentle smile.
And she accepted it, much to Aldo's relief. Out of all plagues in the world, a crying woman was the one the lieutenant found most treacherous, most difficult to deal with. Even if the tears were for effect only, which – as his own experience told him – happened quite often. But fake or not, they still made him feel helpless, the feeling he hated almost as much as the sense of guilt washing over him whenever he was forced to face streams of tears, most often accompanied by violent sobs that drilled holes in his brain. Something his ex-wife had mastered well. At least this one had the decency not to utter a sound in the process.
She raised the mug up to her lips and took a sip, then another, focusing on the taste. Then she looked at Stiglitz, trying to decipher from his impassive face if the hardest part was over.
'What was next?' Aldo asked for her.
'When I was still in Schultz's office Otto came to tell him they had your address.'
She looked at him absently. 'All the time we thought someone betrayed us,' she started, her voice a bit hoarse, but she cleared her throat and this helped a bit. 'We suspected a boy who'd joined my brother's squad two months before the Gestapo came to my house and arrested my mom. We didn't trust him. Later he was killed in an almost suicide mission he'd volunteered for. Only to prove us that we were wrong about him.'
Stiglitz sighed. 'But it wasn't your friend, Anna, either', he said, his voice confident. 'She told them nothing. Another prisoner they were interrogating recognized you from the photo and they checked that information.'
She gave him a hostile look. Right now she did not need any pity, any comforting lies to sweeten the pill she had already managed to swallow.
'This is what your friend from the Gestapo told you?' she asked sharply.
Stiglitz's eyes darkened with anger and somewhere behind her own cold fury she realized that he had never been that angry with her. In fact, he had never seemed to be angry with her at all.
'He wasn't my friend,' he growled. 'I only knew him. And you are probably still alive because I knew him,' he added curtly.
Aldo exchanged glances with Donowitz and in his second in command's eyes he saw a reflection of exactly the same thoughts that came across his mind. Of course, they both knew perfectly well where Stiglitz loyalties lay. He had proved it beyond all doubt. Proved it eagerly, so to say, and right now he was one of them. Apart from Hirschberg's moment of weakness, no one in the squad doubted or questioned Hugo's commitment. Yet, it still seemed odd to listen to his memories from the other side.
'He told you my address?' the girl asked him incredulously, her tone harsh, but devoid of hostility.
'No,' Stiglitz smirked nastily. 'He was a loyal German officer. He wasn't forced to join the Gestapo, it was his own choice. And believe me, he would never reveal any crucial information to me. What he told me was nothing more than boasting. I encouraged him to boast and he rose to the bait. He wanted to impress me,' his lips curled in a scornful smile. 'But no, he didn't give me your address.' He went quiet for a moment, his thoughts coming back again to the interrogation room.
Funny, the decision he had made in a gloomy corridor of the Gestapo Headquarters had been one of the hardest in his whole life, taken in a long internal battle he had both won and lost. After nearly an hour of reasoning with the soldier in him. Convincing that soldier. Appealing to his conscience. Stunning him with visions of another blood-covered body stretched on the floor in the same interrogation room he had just left. All those visions came back to him even now. But after warning the girl, the enemy, he had been able to come back to his former life almost untouched. No real harm done. It was another crucial decision made much later that had changed his life irrevocably, with no return ever possible. Yet in that case it had taken him mere seconds to decide what to do.
He looked at Sophie again. 'I had to invent an excuse to be left alone in his room for a while so that I could have a look at the papers on his desk. It took me a while to find your house and for your mother I came too late.'
She nodded, dropping her eyes to the ground for a while, before she decided to look at him again.
'I couldn't help your friend, either,' he said, an unusual tone in his voice, though his expression showed no emotion at all.
'I know,' she admitted reluctantly. 'Why did you help me?'
'Let's stop here.' Aldo sent her a smile that was meant to be pleasant, but she only found it gloating. 'We've agreed on one condition, one question, remember? And it's already answered. If you want to know more, I suggest you ask Hugo later. I'm sure you both can reach agreement.' He smirked at her evident discontentment. 'Now let's come back to the main topic. Cigarette?' He passed her Wicki's packet.
'Thank you.' She took one and, to her surprise, it was Donowitz who gave her a light. And although the glance he cast was still far from friendly, it was not hostile, either.
'So,' Aldo started again, 'you were in the Resistance just like your friend, right?'
'That's right. Polnische banditen,' she peeked at Stiglitz, but he only smiled faintly at the taunt.
'What exactly did you do?'
She took a long drag, surprised how good the cigarette felt after months of abstinence.
'Before they arrested my mum I was a courier. I carried coded messages. Guns. Grenades. Orders. Papers.'
'Papers?'
'False documents. German passes,' she explained.
'And after they took your mother?'
'I got promoted,' she gave a short, mirthless laugh.
'In what sense?' the lieutenant raised his eyebrow.
'Adam and me…'
'Who's Adam?' the lieutenant cut in smoothly.
'My brother. We were moved to a special unit, a death squad. We executed traitors, Gestapo informers, snitches.'
Aldo eyed her sceptically. 'You mean you shot them?'
But she responded to his dubious gaze with a smirk. 'Only as a last resort. Usually my brother did. Or …', she hesitated for a while, 'or someone else.' She gazed away for a while, but then her eyes found his again. 'But if you wanna ask if I can use the gun, the answer is positive, lieutenant. The pistol you took from my purse wasn't there only for decoration. By the way, can I have it back?'
The lieutenant's lips stretched in an almost friendly smile. 'In the morning. You seem dangerous enough without a gun,' he said and Donny snorted, but she ignored the teasing.
Aldo looked at her again. 'So it was a death squad you were in? Is that why the Gestapo wanted you?'
'That's right,' she admitted.
'A risky job,' Wicki noticed politely, smiling.
'Very,' she returned the smile. 'There were … complications. Too many witnesses, unexpected patrols. Or the risk was too big. That we could kept it going for almost seven months was a miracle.'
'Greta Keller,' Stiglitz interrupted and she flinched, locking her eyes on his immediately. 'Was it your handiwork?'
That took her by surprise, but she nodded, though hesitantly.
'Colonel Raddke's mistress.' He chuckled softly. 'I must say my respect for you has increased even more, mademoiselle.'
'Who was that?' the lieutenant asked.
'A Gestapo informer,' she explained. 'A very professional informer. Many people were arrested and killed because of her. She was closely guarded, so my brother really couldn't come near her to do the job. But I caught her in a theatre.'
'Wearing more or less the same uniform you showed us here,' he added matter-of-factly, and a smug smile flashed across his face at her expression. 'No wonder they didn't suspect you until it was too late for Keller.'
She watched him for a long moment, wondering how many surprises like that he was still hiding. 'You're well informed, Herr Stiglitz,' she finally said, the mocking note subtle in her voice and his smirk widened.
'Let's say I'm clever enough to put two and two together. And more precisely, certain facts and rumours. I know Raddke swore it was on his honour to get all of you. He was angry.'
She gave him a hard stare. 'Angry? The German shot down fifty people in revenge for Greta Keller. Much more than they normally executed for the German soldiers we killed.'
He did not gaze away, but his smirk faded. 'And you disappeared from Warsaw,' he stated.
'Did you?' Aldo asked briefly, glancing at Stiglitz with a strange expression. His German sergeant became unusually talkative around the girl and it did not escape his attention. Perhaps that could be useful. Somehow.
'The Gestapo had my description and quite a good identikit picture of one of the boys.' Her mouth twitched slightly. 'Our commanding officer transferred us to Krakow.'
'Where your activity also caused quite a lot of trouble.' Stiglitz interrupted again. 'Not to mention right under Governor Frank's nose.'
She looked at him searchingly for a long moment. 'You must have met that schoolmate of yours quite often,' she commented wryly.
'Otto was a valuable source of information,' he admitted, his expression strange for a while. 'But then I had no idea you were that criminal he talked about.'
'Why did you move to France?' Aldo asked, still digesting what he had just heard.
She looked at him hesitantly. 'My fiancé was shot in an abortive mission.'
'I'm sorry to hear that.'
She smiled sadly. 'At least he died instantly. And my brother wanted me to leave. He insisted.'
'Because of your fiancé's death?'
'That was one of the reasons. But I guess he simply wanted to protect me. He always did. And the Gestapo were hard on our heels.'
'How did you manage to leave Poland?' Aldo asked, and this time there was more curiosity than suspicion to his voice.
'There was a man who worked for us. A forger. Before the war he'd been in prison for forgery, but when the German came he went all patriotic and sometimes helped the Resistance. My brother contacted him to make really good papers for me and our aunt…'
'Aunt?' the lieutenant cut in.
'My father's sister. I arrived here with her. She helped us in Krakow and the Gestapo decided to check on her.'
'I see. So your forger agreed to make the papers for you both?'
'Yes. On one condition,' she smiled. 'He wanted us to take him to France. Pretend a family. Travelling on his own could be risky, but as a German-born family we had no problem.'
'Is he also living at your grandma's place?'
'No. In Paris. But we stay in touch. By the way, my passport is his work.'
'So this damn good forger is now in Paris.' Aldo drawled pensively. 'And you're in the Resistance again.'
'I couldn't just sit on my grandma's porch and wait for the war to end.'
He laughed. 'I don't blame you. And you're conspiring with this guy from the tavern.'
'Paul is my contact. Like Emma your men have already met. There's also a courier from Paris and he arrives at the tavern approximately every two weeks. More frequently in case of emergency.'
'Like what?'
'Like someone who must change their address. Or identity. Or disappear with no trace at all.'
'Like this Jewish child you've brought here?'
'Precisely.'
'Are you hiding Jews in your grandmother's house?' he asked in a tone that could seem casual, if it weren't for what he was asking about.
She snorted. 'What kind of question is it?'
The lieutenant gave her a somewhat lopsided smile. 'Why, just a normal question between two business partners who need to trust each other. So?'
She glanced at Stiglitz to check if he had any surprise to interject, but he only gave her a smile, so her gaze returned to the lieutenant.
'Seven of them are living with us. A family of five. And twins. We can't take in more if we want to avoid unnecessary attention. There are also people who stay for a few days before we move them further.'
He nodded understandingly. 'What about the child? Will she stay with you?'
She sighed. 'I'm not sure. There's a woman in Lyons who agreed to take Sarah in, but we must wait for her final decision and it may take a few days.'
'I see,' the lieutenant said, his eyes inscrutable. 'And where's your brother now?'
She shrugged. 'In the woods near Krakow. Partisan like you. If he's still alive.'
'Any news from him?'
'I can't hardly phone him or send him a letter.'
Aldo studied her in silence for a long moment and although his expression did not betray anything she suddenly realized that the verdict was coming.
'Alright, Sophie,' he finally said. 'Now I suppose it's time we discussed details of our cooperation.'
