White Rose Black Forest(48)

Chapter 10

Franka sat frozen to the chair. The fire had gone out in the living room, and the temperature in the cabin was noticeably lower. He was motionless before her, helpless. She knew the truth now. She felt vindicated. She wasn’t going insane. Her suspicions were correct. This man in her father’s cabin, whom she had rescued from the snow, was an American. A spy. She’d known he was American or English, had been sure of the fact for days now, but to hear him say it was still a revelation. She thought of Daniel and the Gestapo. There would be no leniency this time. Sheltering a spy meant the guillotine, but only after tortures that would make death seem like a mercy. Yet somehow she felt free. For the first time since she’d delivered those leaflets, seen the enthusiasm and pride in Hans’s eyes, she felt like she was living again. Truly living. Not just eating and sleeping and breathing. Not just killing time—living a consequential life.

“I must tend to the fire,” she said, and left him there.

Thoughts bounced around inside her mind and collided. She knew everything now, everything except why. Why was he here? What was his mission? What was this help he’d asked her for? The logs crackled as she tossed them onto the glowing embers in the fireplace. She stood for a few seconds, warming her hands before going to the kitchen. She was hungry. Little food remained. Stretching her rations for two people was hard and would only be more difficult now that the reserve of canned food they’d had was gone. She thought of going to town tomorrow. No need to go all the way to Freiburg. She stopped and rested against the kitchen table, her arms folded across her chest. She closed her eyes, then walked back toward the bedroom.

“So now you know everything,” he said.

His accent was unchanged, but she could see the cracks in it now. She wondered how he would hold up under questioning—wondered if those trained to weed out such details would notice more quickly than she.

“Your German is excellent, not rusty at all.”

“It was a little before my training. It came back quickly. That was the easy part.”

“What was the hard part?”

“Learning to resist interrogation techniques. The simulated torture.”

“I was interrogated by the Gestapo.”

“Of course.”

“They didn’t need to torture me. They knew everything already.” She paused for a few seconds and went to the window. “Do you still think of your family, of your home in America?”

“I’ve tried not to. I tried to be Werner Graf, but John Lynch kept rearing his ugly head.”

“You were thoroughly convincing.”

“How did you suspect?”

“I heard you talking in your sleep when I found you. You were delirious, calling out in English.”

“I had no idea I could ever meet someone like you. I didn’t know someone like you existed.”

Franka had heard how earnest Americans could be. It was a different experience.

“I do have a question for you—why did you hold taking over your father’s business against your brother, when you didn’t want it?”

“I didn’t like what he was doing. He’s going to run it into the ground. My father’s life’s work is in jeopardy.”

“If that was so important to you, why didn’t you take over yourself? You gave up the right to criticize Norman’s decisions when you turned your father down.”

“You don’t miss a beat, do you?”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I didn’t want to pursue a path that led only to making money. I wanted something more. Who knows what would have happened if it weren’t for this war? I’d probably be home right now, working with Norman.”

“Instead of fighting with him.”

“I was trying to help.”

Franka felt she’d pushed it enough. “You must be hungry. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’m famished.”

“Food is getting low. I’ll need to go to town tomorrow.”

She went to the kitchen and heated the last of the stew and tore off a hunk of the bread she’d made to go with it. It took him less than two minutes to eat it all. She waited until he’d finished to ask the question.

“Why are you here?”

John took the napkin she’d laid on the edge of the tray and wiped the corners of his mouth.

“You deserve to know,” he said, and put the napkin down. “I was never meant to be here. My drop zone was a few miles outside of Stuttgart. We mapped out the safest route to get us there, avoiding the major cities where we knew the ground-to-air fire was concentrated. I don’t suppose they anticipated the installations around Freiburg. They must be new.”

“They were installed after the bombing raid that killed my father. The city hadn’t suffered too much before then. It was only a matter of time before Freiburg joined the other German cities the Allies have flattened.”

“I’m sorry about your father. War has a habit of victimizing innocents.”

“He was in bed when the bombers came. I don’t suppose he ever knew what hit him. He never knew who murdered him.”

“Your father’s death was unfortunate,” John said, immediately regretting his choice of words.