Nudging her chair closer to the Gruppenführer’s, Allina surveyed the break room over the rim of her teacup. It was all she could do to sit still. She’d been on high alert all day, a tetchy mix of excitement and anxiety humming just beneath her skin.
“We should test our plan first,” she whispered. “I’ve been in that office a handful of times to fetch files. I know how it’s organized, but a test seems smart.”
“Agreed.” He placed his hand over hers. The quick spark of heat from his fingers made her unsteady. She let go of the cup too quickly, and half her tea spilled as it dropped with a clatter. “Sorry,” he said, and handed his napkin over to wipe up the mess.
The misstep caught the eye of the two pregnant women at the only other occupied table in the break room. They smiled at her and simpered over their biscuits. Gossips. Allina took a sip of the lemony brew, but it did little to calm her stomach.
“Let me give you the information I have on one child,” he murmured, flashing a fake, charming smile clearly for the benefit of the ladies at the other table. The Gruppenführer took a scrap of paper from his pocket. He slipped it under her hand, kept the tips of his fingers against hers. “Time yourself to see how long it takes to locate her file.”
She peeked at the paper. “Anya Geisen,” she read, trying to ignore the tingling in her fingers. “Born at Hochland Home, 1936.”
Allina stashed the paper in her apron pocket as the busybodies strolled to the door. One had the gall to wag a finger as she exited. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to find with this information. Schwester Ziegler is ruthless about the files. They’re pristine.”
“The file may not be where you expect,” von Strassberg said, although he shook his head when she tried to ask why. They’d been through all this before. The more Allina knew, the more danger she’d be in.
Allina sighed. “That means it might take longer to find.”
“Which worries me, so let’s go over the plan,” he said. “When is the best time for you to get the files?”
“Schwester Ziegler takes her afternoon break at 4:30. It’s at the end of the afternoon shift, when most of us are readying for dinner,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table. “The administrative offices are emptiest then, so it’s the best time to snag the key from her desk. I’ll have to be quick, though. Fifteen minutes, at most.”
“Good. Will anyone think it strange if you’re carrying a file into the hall?”
“No. Files are part of everyone’s work here. To be safe, I’ll bring others and slip the borrowed one between them.”
“Excellent. And the best way to transfer any documents to me?”
“It’s winter. Everyone’s seen us walk in the garden. I’ll secure the file between my dress and coat.”
“And we make the transfer outside.” He crossed his arms over his chest and winked. “I could find you work as an intelligence officer. Your mind works in interesting ways.”
She flushed under his praise, tried to hide it by stuffing down another biscuit. “My biggest concern is where to store the file after I take it from Central Filing.”
“Is there a safe spot in your sleeping room?” he asked. “A locked cabinet? Underneath your mattress?”
“The file won’t be safe there,” she said, shaking her head. “There are no locks on the doors or closet, and the cleaning staff come into our rooms without notice to change the linens.”
He grunted. “I’ll need a day to figure out storage.” He leaned in closer. “Find Anya’s file, then, but don’t take it. Try to figure out how the files are organized, but only if you have time. I don’t want you risking your safety, understand?”
“I understand.” He was invading her space again, and his nearness made her stomach flutter. She wasn’t afraid anymore, but the awareness was baffling. Alarming.
“Be careful.” He moved closer, until they were nose to nose. “I’ll come for you before breakfast tomorrow. Be careful,” he repeated.
“Yes, Gruppenführer,” Allina said, and backed away with a mock salute. “Are there any other orders, sir?”
“Only a request,” he said with a grin that probably worked its charm on every woman he met. “Do you think you could find it in your heart to call me Karl?”
Allina answered with a smile but didn’t honor his request. The thought of calling the man by his first name made her nervous. Still, she caught herself whispering his name as she went about her duties that afternoon. The hours passed, but it was like walking in a river, upstream. Every second seemed to cling to her skin and drag her backward. Each observation she noted in a child’s file made her wonder about the location of Anya Geisen’s, and even a double basketful of laundry didn’t drown out the sluggish ticking of the clock. Exhausted and jittery by the end of her shift, she jumped out of her seat when Wendeline came to relieve her.
Snatching the head nurse’s keys turned out to be the easiest part of her plan. The halls were mostly empty and no one gave her a second look, so she slipped into Ziegler’s office unnoticed. The woman was, for all her faults, as predictable as a priest come to supper, so the keys to Central Filing were exactly where Allina knew they’d be.
Unfortunately, her plot ran off course after that. Allina hadn’t counted on nerves besting her. Her hands shook so much that she’d dropped the keys twice on the way to Central Filing and again while fumbling with the lock. The harsh, bright jangle of metal hitting linoleum sounded like an alarm and made her curse herself for not inventing a reasonable story, and she was sure a staff member would come running down the hall to seize the interloper. By the time she entered the filing office, the back of Allina’s uniform was stuck to her body. She wasted precious seconds sagging against the closed door in relief.
It took another quarter hour to locate Anya Geisen’s file. Her paperwork wasn’t in any of the labeled filing cabinets, but in an old, dented one at the back of Central Filing—one Allina opened on a whim out of sheer stubbornness, after searching all the others. There were dozens of files in that cabinet, alphabetized by facility and last name.
Who was Anya Geisen?
Allina had barely returned the keys to Ziegler’s desk when the military clatter of the head nurse’s heels came down the hall. She dashed into the narrow supply closet and squeezed herself among cleaning buckets, brooms, and tall stacks of boxes. Allina waited there with her heart hammering in her ears, jumping each time the head nurse slammed a drawer in her desk and praying the woman wouldn’t have a sudden need for a box of pencils.
The noisy rummaging went on for minutes, but it seemed like an hour. When the head nurse left, Allina was boneless with relief.
Rilla’s eyes lit with mischief as she leaned in to inspect the locket dangling from Allina’s neck. “It’s gorgeous.” She turned to the group of women huddled around the breakfast buffet. “Look, the Gruppenführer had it engraved with the initial of her first name.”
Berta turned her face away. Lotte cooed with delight. Sabine gave Allina an I-told-you-so wink.
“The locket was his Aunt Adele’s,” Allina said with a smile. She ran a finger over the intricately engraved letter A on the locket’s face before slipping it beneath her nurse’s apron and blouse. Its heavy, solid weight was cool against her flushed skin.
“A family heirloom sounds promising,” Rilla said, eyebrows lifting as she eyed the buffet. “Oh, there’s bacon this morning!” Distracted, she plucked a few strips from the chafing dish.
“You’re holding up the line,” Berta grumbled, elbowing her way through the small crowd. Allina moved aside as Berta took her time piling eggs and bacon onto her plate. “I think it’s gaudy.” Berta’s lips curled into a sneer.
“Gold is never gaudy, Berta.” Sabine frowned. “Your sour attitude is showing. It’s not attractive, dear.”
Rilla shot Berta an evil glare. “Who cares about your taste, anyway? He didn’t give you the locket, did he?”
Berta tossed her full plate back onto the buffet, sending bits of food tumbling onto the chafing dishes and tablecloth before she flounced out of the room with a dramatic flick of platinum hair. The women at the surrounding tables turned to each other, wide-eyed, before settling down to their breakfasts.
“It’s a large piece, but elegant,” Sabine said, patting Allina’s arm. “Rilla’s right. By gifting you a family heirloom, he’s made his intentions clear.”
The gossip and assumptions didn’t need answering, so Allina graced Sabine with another smile and added a roll and some grapefruit to her plate.
When he’d arrived before breakfast this morning, von Strassberg told her the locket was part of The Plan. Before sharing more details, he’d run off to meet with the head nurse. He’d asked her to put the necklace on immediately, though, and show it to the other women.
“It’s so exciting.” Rilla grabbed Allina’s arm as they sat at their table. “I was hoping to tease him about his intentions over breakfast,” she said, taking a bite of bacon. “Why did he have to meet with Schwester Ziegler this morning?”
“I’m sure we’ll find out soon,” Allina murmured. She buttered her roll before taking a bite. The man was an enigma, and his timing made no sense. They needed to discuss Anya Geisen’s file.
Rilla glanced over Allina’s shoulder. “It looks like we’re all about to find out.”
The sound of the head nurse’s brisk stride always preceded her, but there was no mistaking Ziegler’s arrival when she cleared her throat. Screwing up her courage, Allina gulped down another bite before turning in her chair.
Von Strassberg winked and inclined his head. In his hands was a glossy wood box.
“Allina, Gruppenführer von Strassberg joined me for breakfast.” Ziegler’s gaze flicked to the locket. “He told me your friendship is … moving forward.”
Allina’s cheeks burned. “Yes, Schwester.” She pushed her breakfast plate away and hoped the blush hid her surprise. How far would they be taking the ruse?
“Well, then,” the head nurse said. She smiled, not unkindly, and hurried away.
Von Strassberg moved closer and gave the ladies at the table a courteous bow. “I have another small gift for you,” he said, setting the box on the table. The amber-colored oak was unblemished, and the piece was stunning in its simple, clean lines. A master wood smith had inlaid pieces of dark cherrywood in a swastika pattern. Allina ran her fingers over the wood, which was lacquered and buffed to a silky gloss.
“It glows,” Rilla murmured.
“The box was a personal gift from the Führer,” he said.
The other women at the table let out soft oohs in delight.
Allina lowered her lashes. “Really?”
“I hope you’ll use the box for safekeeping of precious items for many years to come.”
She started at that comment and slanted him a glance. He nodded, solemn as a magi, but there was a dangerous glitter in his eyes. The box was the perfect size to hold the files he’d asked her to steal. Allina ran her fingertips over the keyhole. Where was the key?
“Schwester Ziegler suggested we take time this morning to discuss the future,” he added, with a flash of white teeth. Rilla pinched her leg under the table, hard enough to make her hiss.
He leaned closer and offered Allina his arm. “Shall we walk in the garden? Perhaps Fräulein Weber would be kind enough to take the box to your sleeping room,” he said.
“I’d be happy to, Gruppenführer.” Rilla picked up the box and turned to Allina. “Use my coat and hat if yours are upstairs,” she told Allina. “Mine are in the entryway.”
Allina rose from her chair. “You’ve thought of everything,” she said, baring teeth.
“I do my best.” He chuckled, tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and led her away from the table.
“You realize what everyone thinks now?”
“People think what they think.” He steered her out of the room and down the hall toward the courtyard. “Let them gossip, if it helps us.”
As soon as they entered the garden, he propelled her to its farthest edge. It was just past dawn, but that suited her fine. Few would venture here until the day warmed, so they could speak freely, and Rilla’s thick wool mittens and muffler were a buffer against the cold.
“Have you figured out why I met with Schwester Ziegler in private about the box?” He stopped to blow into his gloved hands, puffs of steam rising in the air.
Shivering, Allina nodded. “She’ll let me keep it in my sleeping room without question.”
“Exactly.” He grabbed her hands, rubbing them between his vigorously enough that she could feel the heat through the wool and leather. “I thought you’d take pleasure in storing any files in a box commissioned for the Reich.”
“I like the idea of hiding them in plain sight,” she admitted, a little nervous at how well he grasped the workings of her mind, “but everyone’s curious about the box now. They’ll all want a peek inside.”
“Ah, the key,” he said. They walked to their usual bench, and he unwound his muffler and spread it over the seat. “Take your locket off, please.”
Tugging off her mittens, she sat and pulled the necklace over her head.
“See the two little nubs there?” He pointed to the locket’s side. “Press the top one.”
She tapped the tiny button, and the locket’s cover sprang open to reveal a headshot of a child. The little boy was young, not more than six or seven, with a radiant smile and bright, penetrating eyes. “Is that you?” She ran the tip of her fingernail over the photo. “It must be. The eyes are the same,” she blurted. When he didn’t answer, she glanced up in time to see the flush rise up his neck.
He cleared his throat. “My aunt loved that picture. I couldn’t find a suitable replacement on short notice.” He pointed to the locket again. “Push the other nub.”
When she did, a second compartment behind the photo opened, and nestled in that compartment was a slender brass key. “How clever,” she whispered. “I’d never think of it.”
“Good, then no one else will either,” he said. “Keep the key in the locket and the locket around your neck at all times.”
“Of course.” She snapped the locket closed and slipped the chain over her neck.
“And now,” he said, sitting back and crossing his legs, “I want to hear about your trip to Central Filing.”
Finally. “Getting into the room was simple,” she said. “The trick is to act with confidence. If you walk with purpose and look like you know what you’re doing, no one questions a thing.”
“You terrify me.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw, eliciting a rasp that raised the hairs on her nape. “How long did it take to find Anya’s file?”
“Fifteen minutes.” Allina bit her lip, unwilling to tell him how close she’d come to being discovered. “I’ll have to be quicker next time.”
His brows drew together in a fierce frown. “Did you have problems?”
“No,” she lied smoothly, “but you were right. Anya’s file wasn’t where I expected it would be. Every Lebensborn home has several cabinets in Central Filing, and the files in each are alphabetized by last name. Anya’s file wasn’t in the Hochland Home cabinet. I found it by chance in one at the back of the room.”
He folded his arms over his head. “How?”
“I got frustrated, so I kept opening the empty cabinets until I found one partially full. I didn’t have time to examine the files too closely, but none of them seemed normal to me. They were too skinny.” She shuddered at the memory of what came after and wrapped her arms around her middle to mask it.
After another long, measured look, he nodded. “All right. This afternoon, I’ll need you to take Anya’s file, along with four others.”
“Do you have more names for me?”
“No, but if my hunch is right, the names won’t matter. It’s what’s in each file that’s important.” He leaned in. “And remember, your safety is more important than any file.”
Allina went back to Central Filing that afternoon and took Anya’s file and four more. She was in and out in less than three minutes.
Late that evening, with the five files spread out across her bed, Allina couldn’t shake off a nagging sense of anxiety. The records she’d fetched were on three boys and two girls, ranging in age from sixteen months to two years. Each folder contained only a single typed sheet of paper, undated, with the most basic information on the child: name and birth date, parent names, gender, height, and weight. At the bottom of each sheet was an identical, cryptic notation. It was one she’d never seen before: T/H.H.
Someone had gone through these records and removed as much as two years’ worth of documentation. But for what purpose?
T/H.H.
What was she not seeing?
Sharp trills of laughter outside her bedroom door made Allina stuff the files back into the box before returning to bed. There was nothing more to do tonight. She’d have to wrangle the truth out of von Strassberg in the morning. Slipping under the covers, Allina reached for the locket and pressed it to her chest. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.
The Gruppenführer was as stubborn as a bag of rocks.
“What do you mean, you don’t want to talk about it?” Scowling, Allina tried to yank her arm from his hold as he propelled her to the back of the garden.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” von Strassberg said mildly, keeping her arm in his iron grip. “And stop yelling unless you want everyone to know our business.” His hawkish gaze followed a resident and her suitor as they walked back into the building.
The temperature had warmed today, melting almost all the snow from the shrubbery, and the bright green shoots of daffodils and paper whites peeked up from the dirt. Warmer temperatures meant more people in the courtyard, but the couples were too wrapped up in each other to offer anything more than amused smirks. No, they likely assumed she and the Gruppenführer were in the middle of a lovers’ tiff, which was a distressing but logical conclusion. The man knew how to ignite her temper.
“I’m not yelling,” she hissed, lifting her chin. “Do you want the files or don’t you?”
That did the trick. He blinked—once—before propelling her to their usual bench at the garden’s edge. Allina sat down with dignity and a stiff spine, realizing too late she’d made a tactical error. The Gruppenführer remained standing, and he towered over her. The tip of his nose was red, though she was unsure if that was from cold or temper.
“Are you threatening to hold the files hostage?” Leaning in, he crowded her, close enough to catch the clean scent of soap and shaving cream. His jaw could have been carved from stone.
She refused to fall victim to intimidation tactics. “I’m telling you the files don’t make sense. There’s only a single sheet of paper in each one. Nothing else,” she whispered. “No nurse’s notes or adoption records, or even, God forbid, death certificates. That’s years of information gone missing on each child. Nothing’s as it should be.”
The truth hit in a rush. She covered her mouth.
“What?” His eyes locked with hers.
“There’s the same note on each file,” she whispered through her fingers. Allina bent down and drew the notation in the dirt: T/H.H.
When he rushed to rub out the letters, she knew she’d hit on the truth.
They whispered the words in unison: “Transfer, Heinrich Himmler.”
Sick with anger, Allina’s hands began to shake. “The children on the third floor.”
“Who will be transferred to a special Lebensborn orphanage.” Von Strassberg sat down and braced his arms on his thighs. “It’s possible. I’ll need more files, more time, to be sure.”
No. She wouldn’t let him put her off again, or give only a half answer. There were dozens of files in that cabinet—every last one was stripped of medical information about the child. Allina had risked her safety to secure these files, yet he continued to withhold information from her, without any assurance of what would happen once she helped him.
“Tell me everything you know.”
For a moment, Allina was afraid he’d refuse. When he spoke, it was in a clipped tone that made her stomach twist. “The number of Lebensborn adoptions is low, given the number of births. A few months ago, a child named Anya Geisen was promised to a high-ranking family but not delivered, with no explanation other than the child had some sort of nervous condition. The family contacted a colleague of mine. We decided to conduct an … informal investigation. I hoped her file would show why.” He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “We can’t jump to conclusions. It might be coincidence.”
But the grief in his voice told her otherwise, as did the head nurse’s words about the children on the third floor: These children serve a purpose. We must trust the Reichsführer’s plan.
“Somebody stole the contents of the files because they needed them. They’re conducting tests on the children to find out what went wrong.” Allina hated, hated, how her voice wobbled, but she’d be damned if she stayed silent another minute. “I think the same thing will happen to Otto and others like him.”
Von Strassberg grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “If that’s the case, I’ll get to the bottom of it. Either way, we’ll figure out a way to help.”
The frustrated respect in his eyes gave her hope. He trusted her with the truth. Not all of it—the man probably had more secrets than the Sphinx—but he’d shared enough for now. Allina had little right to complain about his secrets. She had plenty of her own.
The thought of trusting him with the truth about her mother made her chest tight with panic. It was a ridiculous notion. She couldn’t share that secret with anyone.
Allina scanned the garden before unbuttoning her coat to pull the files from the makeshift strap she’d constructed from two nursing slings. “I can get you all the files you need,” she said, handing them over. “How many more? The box can hold twenty, at least.”
“Ten is better. Safer.” Karl slid the folders under his jacket. “Speaking of safety, I’d transfer whatever you’ve sewn into the lining of your coat to that box as soon as possible.”
Allina froze. “You can tell?” She ran her hands over the front of her coat, but the rustle was so faint it was barely noticeable. Had she given him any other clue?
“It’s an old trick,” he said, brushing lint from his sleeve. “One I’ve used in an emergency. Most won’t notice the sound, but the box is a safer hiding place.”
Allina rubbed at her tingling cheeks. “I’ll take care of it tonight.” The opportunity to keep her father’s letters somewhere safe, to finally read them, to know his voice through his writing—it was exhilarating.
Von Strassberg stood and tugged her to her feet. “I leave for Berlin tomorrow to attend the Führer’s address to the Reichstag. I’ll meet with my contacts there, try to see what I can find out.” He slipped her hand neatly into the crook of his arm, and they strolled the garden’s perimeter.
“How long will you be gone?” A quiver of nervousness hit her stomach.
“A few days. I’ve a favor to ask, though, while I’m away.” The line between his brows deepened into a frown. “It’s one that may be difficult for you to fulfill, but I must ask it.” He turned and took her hands in his, rubbing her fingers with his thumbs in a way that made her more nervous.
“What is it?”
He took a deep breath, as if readying for an argument. “I need you to attend as many Hochland Home mixers as you can, beginning tonight.”
What?
He squeezed her hands again. “Not for the reason most women here attend them, of course.”
Allina wet her lips. They were dry as paper. “Then why?”
He looked away for a second, revealing the tense line of his jaw. “You need to become more confident in male company.” His eyes searched hers for a moment before he continued. “We haven’t spoken of it again, of what happened in Badensburg. I know you’ve suffered.” He looked away again, swallowing hard. “Suffered at the hands of men wearing the uniform. I’ve seen you shy away from them in the halls. Even my presence startles you if I move too quickly, and I think I’ve earned your trust.”
“I can’t talk about this.” Allina pulled away, her mind unable to form any thought other than a panicked No! She didn’t want to think about what had happened, not ever again. He couldn’t know how crippling the violent slashes of memory were, or how they filled her brain at the most unexpected moments, making her limbs lock up and her body betray her. Sometimes she wished she could shed her skin like a snake and leave the hollowed-out husk behind her in the dirt, along with her memories.
“I know it will be difficult,” he said, tugging at her hands again. “Your panic, I’ve seen it before in soldiers who’ve been to war. Who’ve known violence.” She shook her head, but he was relentless. “If we want to help your children, we can’t rely on the other Schwestern. I’ll have to enlist help from my men.” When she gasped and pulled away, he added, “I need you to try to get used to them. To officers, Allina. In uniform.”
“When I go to the mixers, I’m afraid I’ll see one of them,” she whispered. “And of what they’d do, if they recognized me.” Allina looked down at her shoes because she couldn’t bear to see his expression. She was trembling, so much that her words were little more than whimpers.
He pulled her close, slowly, and with such care she wished she could weep. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, lips moving against her hair. The embrace demanded nothing and gave only comfort, allowing her to sag against him and surrender to the panic until it passed. “If you see one of those men again, use my name,” he added, his voice low with fury, “and demand his.”
She risked a glance up and saw the wolf in him then, in the feral way his lips curled back and the narrowing of his eyes. For the first time, Allina witnessed the threat of violence in Karl von Strassberg, although it was expertly controlled.
His rage was gone so quickly she didn’t have time to be afraid. “You’ve got nothing to fear, as long as you’re under my protection,” he said. “I promise you that.”
She took a deep breath, let it out slowly.
“Will you try?” he asked, taking her hands. “Not for my sake, or for your own, but for the children?”
Allina said yes, because there are times when the path forward, however terrifying, is so clear it’s impossible to choose another. She attended the mixer that evening and a dozen others in the weeks that followed. Every officer she met behaved like a perfect gentleman, although she expected this, as she invoked von Strassberg’s name at every opportunity. She never encountered any of the men from that night in Badensburg.
Allina battled her fears at every mixer and struggled with her body’s panicked reaction. Rilla seemed to sense this and rarely left her side, which made it easier. So, too, did Allina’s certainty that Gruppenführer Karl von Strassberg would likely kill anyone who dared touch her again.