This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright 2015 Alex Rosenberg
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle
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ISBN-13: 9781477830819
ISBN-10: 1477830812
Cover design by Shasti OLeary-Soudant / SOS CREATIVE LLC
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015900140
CONTENTS
IN MEDIAS RES
O ctober 24, 1942. Margarita Trushenko, Volks-Deutsche ethnic German, from the east, almost an Aryan, and with papers to prove itwas on the quay, waiting for the 21:00 express to Warsaw. No, it wasnt her. It was Rita Feuerstahl, trying hard to become Margarita Trushenko. It wasnt going to be easy, Rita knew. In six years shed never even been able to think herself into her married name. Inside she had always been Rita Feuerstahl.
How was she going to do this?
The German soldier checking documents at the platform barrier actually said Danke when she handed him the Ausweis , and again Danke after she had opened her case for inspection.
If you knew the truth, youd sooner shoot me down than be korrekt .
A vacuum of fear was sucking at her intestines, the sort of cramps she had lived with through the first weeks of the occupation sixteen months before. Now it had started againthe dread, the feeling someone was playing Russian roulette with your life. She knew it would be constant for days or weeks. She decided to sit as near to the soldier on the quay as possible. A soldier offered protection. Rita... or rather Margarita Trushenko, Volks-Deutsche, needed it, waiting alone for the Lemberg train in a vast and empty train station at night. She took out the catechism booklet that had come with the forged baptismal certificate and tried to study it. Perhaps shed be able to distract herself from the raging angst .
A few minutes later, an express came in from the westfrom Berlin, Warsaw, Lembergfull of officers and men on their way to join the victorious Wehrmacht divisions in the Donbas, still cutting through whole Soviet army groups. Pretending to be fixed on her catechism, Rita didnt notice the two Germans in civilian dress descending from the first-class carriage.
The German sentry did. He came to completely respectful attention as he examined their papers: one was an Oberst a colonel. The other was Friedrich von Richter, major general, SS-RSHA Reich Security Main Headquarters, evidently traveling out of uniform. Of course, neither the sentry nor anyone else in Karpatyn that night could know that Richter wasnt SS at all, but Abwehr , military intelligence and an officer in the first section, responsible for code security.
She could hear them clearly.
Herr Generalmajor , there is no car awaiting you here, said the sentry.
We were not expected. Get on the telephone to Leideritz. Tell him to send a car immediately. Evidently this man already knew the name of the SS Obersturmfhrer in charge of the town of Karpatyn. What he couldnt know was that one reason he had come was sitting there on the platform waiting for a train in the opposite direction, Rita Feuerstahl. And she didnt know she was the reason either.
Once the generals car had left, the sentry came back onto the platform. Rita decided she should smile at him. He returned it with a look of complicity and a shoulder shrug, as if to say they were both better off beyond the penumbra of high-ranking officers. Ritas eyes moved from him to the dark shape of the large station, then across the switching yards to the town beyond.
She knew that even if she survived, she would never come back. Nothing to return fornot her child, certainly not her husband, Urs. Her son was less likely to survive than she was. Urss odds in the Red Army medical corps were better, but it hardly mattered anymore. She had let him escape east, knowing he wouldnt be strong enough to survive the Germans. Then she had tried to save their son, Stefan, by sending him out of the ghetto. But he was almost certainly already dead. The child had been the only bond cementing a marriage broken early by her adultery. Now, even if she and Urs both survived the endless war, there was nothing left between them.
She could have loved Erich, whom the occupation had brought into her life, if only he had let her. Yet he must have loved her in a way, for he left her with a secret so enormous that only love could have made him disclose it. She would not have believed what he told her except for his refusal to even try to save himself. Erich could have provided himself identity papers when he secured hers. Instead, he had allowed himself to be shipped with the last few hundred from Karpatyn to the extermination camp at Belzec.
Sitting there, under the dim lights of the quay, Rita still couldnt decide if Erich had told her the truth or just a clever story to make her survive.
That night a week before, the final Aktionen had begun. After the news about her boy, Rita had been ready to end things. She still had the vial of potassium cyanide her husband had left behind. The Germans were going to win. The Reich would last a thousand years. She had no will to live. Leave me to it, Erich.
They were alone in the dark.
No, Rita. The Germans will lose. Its a matter of a few yearstwo or three, no more. And you will be alive to see it. I know something. But if I tell you, it could put Germanys defeat at risk.
Well, then, keep it to yourself.
Listen, Rita. And then try to forget... End of September 39, the Polish government came through Karpatynthe commander in chief in his shiny boots, the prime minister, everyoneon the way to Romania. Well, one of the war ministry staff looked me up. Wed been close in Warsaw at the math faculty. He was carrying a typewriter case handcuffed to his wrist. And he told me why. The general staff had brought the case to the math faculty with a typewriter inside it, in 1938. Only it wasnt a typewriter; it was a German code machine. Some of the research students had been put to the task of figuring out how the machine worked and to crack the code. Well, they did it. They broke the code. We started to read German signals. Too late to help against their blitzkrieg in Poland, but with the ability to read the most secret German radio messages, the Allies cant lose. Once they are fully mobilized, they have the key to winning the war. And youll be alive when they do.
But if they have the code, why has the German army cut through Russia like a scythe? What use has the code been to the Soviets?
The Reds dont have it. The general staff wasnt going to tell them when the Russians were Hitlers allies in 39. The secret is with the Brits, and they dont trust Stalin any more than the Polish government did. Rita nodded. So, Rita, stay alive! Do anything to still be there at the end. Because its coming, and coming sooner than anyone realizes.
But if what you say is true, it would be crazy for me to know. The first time a policeman starts checking my documents, I could give it all away. Its a story youve invented to save me, maybe to make up for my losing Stefan. You wouldnt risk the whole outcome of the warthat would be madness... even if I believed you for a moment.
