White Rose Black Forest(64)

“Yes, we’ve become quite different people, you and I, haven’t we?” he asked.

“Have we?”

“Oh, I think we have. We were so similar once.”

I recognized the evil. You embraced it, became it.

“But now,” he continued, “many people would say that you represent the very ills that I’m trying to eradicate from the Reich. Some might say that you represent the worst of our society.”

Franka fought the fear threatening to overtake her. This man had absolute power over her. He could drag her from this place and throw her into a cell, and no one would ever be told. He could kill her on a whim, and no one would question his motives. There was no legal process here, no higher power. The National Socialists had made Daniel Berkel a god, and he would exercise his power how he saw fit.

“I’d like to think that the Reich still has a place for people such as me who made mistakes. I’ve served my time—”

“I didn’t say that I felt that way, Franka,” he said, laughing to himself. “Oh, you always were such a silly girl. It’s unsurprising that you were so easily led astray.”

“I was confused. It was hard to be sure what was right or wrong after my brother died.”

“Yes, I did hear about that,” he said, staring down into the fire. The flames lit his eyes as he brought them back to hers. “An unfortunate, yet necessary business.”

“Necessary?” She felt her true feelings spike inside her. The mention of Fredi was kerosene to the flame of resentment flickering within her, and she fought to keep her rage from exploding.

“Of course,” he said. “The führer himself was first to point out that it would be more merciful to end the suffering of the incurably ill, the handicapped, and the idiots. The useless eaters who took food from the mouths of the brave soldiers fighting for our collective futures needed to be eliminated. It was merely common sense, and a vital part of the policy of racial hygiene that is returning our country to its rightful place among the greatest in the world.”

“Excuse me, Herr Berkel,” she said. She got up and went to the bathroom. She stood with her back to the closed door, letting the tears come, her body shaking. She had to get through this. This wasn’t just about her anymore. Paranoid thoughts about the man who’d offered her the cigarette in Stuttgart flooded her mind. Did Berkel know about the microfilm somehow? Were more Gestapo men coming? Was Berkel toying with her before he took her in?

No, he can’t know. He doesn’t know anything. It’s up to you to deal with this.

Franka reached for a towel and wiped away the tears. She looked at herself in the mirror. The hatred surging through her would cloud her judgment. She tried to shove it aside. He was still sitting by the fire as she came back out. His eyes seemed stuck to her as she moved to her place opposite him once more.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Herr Berkel, particularly at this time of night?”

“We defenders of the Reich work all hours. Insurgency never sleeps. And please, call me Daniel. We have so much history together. We’ll forever be part of one another’s lives.”

It felt like cockroaches were under her skin.

“Okay, Daniel. What can I help you with on this winter’s night?”

“This isn’t a social call, though I wish I had time for such things. Are you alone here, Franka?”

“Of course. Well, apart from you, but yes, I’m alone.”

“And you’ve been alone the entire time you’ve been up here?”

“Yes.”

Berkel reached for the cup of coffee and took another sip.

“So who were the crutches for?”

Franka’s body tightened. “Oh,” she said, trying to smile. “The crutches were for my boyfriend. He was here for a few days, but he left. I should have mentioned him. I’m such a scatterbrain sometimes.”

“It’s funny you keep referring to the fact that you’re a scatterbrain. I must admit I feel quite the opposite. I know you and always found you to be most intelligent, and strong-willed. Certainly no idiot, or one to be led astray easily.” He put down the coffee cup. “And who is this boyfriend?”

“His name is Werner Graf. He’s from Berlin. He’s a pilot in the Luftwaffe.”

What if he found John—could they maintain his cover? No, not while he was hiding under the floorboards. She couldn’t reveal anything. Lying was her only chance, but this man was trained to see through liars, and she was sure he was seeing through her.

“A flier in the Luftwaffe, eh?” he said. “I’m surprised one of our brave pilots would lower himself to be with a whore like you.”

“He . . . he left several days ago,” she said.

“You showed him that pretty ass of yours, did you? You fooled him into thinking you were a loyal German woman, instead of a dissident whore?”

He reached for the novel on the table beside him.

“Well, look here. The whore is reading a banned book. Do you know that this is more than enough for me to take you in?”

“It’s an old book, Daniel. I was just looking at it. I’m so sorry . . .” She recoiled in her chair and looked toward the door. She knew she’d never make it that far.

“You lied to me. How can I trust a single word you say now?”