SS Headquarters
Hotel Flora, Schwerinstrasse 121, Prague
Karl watched with odd detachment as Allina’s letter slipped through his fingers and floated to the floor. His eyes shifted to the empty coffee cup and half-eaten plate of breakfast, then to the crumbs scattered across the table’s polished mahogany surface.
She’s pregnant.
The small group of officers around him began banging their fists on the tabletop. Christ, he’d made the announcement out loud …
Karl tried to push up from the table but landed back in his chair with a hard thump. Damn his legs for refusing to obey his brain. Damn his hands, too. They were shaking. And he couldn’t breathe. All the air had left his lungs.
“Three cheers for the Gruppenführer,” Loritz Kortig shouted, with a savage fist pump.
Tedrick Bamm speared a sausage off his plate and bit into it with gusto. “Another healthy son to defend the Fatherland—”
“—or healthy daughter to breed the next generation of sons,” finished Richard Goeffels over a mouthful of coffee. Goeffels was newly consigned, but after two weeks in Prague, the eighteen-year-old was no longer innocent.
“Schwester Allina will be a model for dozens of women,” added Kortig, taking his seat. “How fortunate to have a new mother as Hochland Home’s special program director. Soon, she’ll be able to demonstrate proper care using her own child.”
Fucking hell. Kortig’s assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth. Allina’s letter was filled with angry, clever euphemisms, making it clear she was unwilling to raise her child at Hochland Home. An uncomfortable, unfamiliar tightness gripped his chest. He’d let his dick lead his brains. He was no better than his men.
Karl jumped when Markus clapped a bracing hand on his shoulder, interrupting his internal diatribe. “There’s much to celebrate,” Markus said. His black eyes shone with enough amusement to be irritating before he turned to the others at the table. “Excuse us, gentlemen. Gruppenführer von Strassberg and I have important business to attend to.”
The young officers stood and saluted in unison. “Heil Hitler!”
He walked with Markus in silence from the plush red-and-gilt dining room through the even more ornately decorated and chandeliered lobby. Only after they traveled outside and across the street into a favorite meeting spot did they speak. It was barely a park—just a few meters of grass, a ragged oak tree, and two ancient stone benches—but they were less likely to be overheard here, and it was small enough to spot intruders quickly.
Markus opened the case he took from his jacket pocket and withdrew a cigarette. “What will you do?” As tightly as his lips clamped around the cigarette, the corners were tipped up. There was too much humor in his friend’s gaze.
Damn it to hell, this wasn’t funny.
Karl blew out a deep breath. He hadn’t been prepared for the intense satisfaction at her announcement, or his fear, nor the fierce protectiveness that overwhelmed him now. “I don’t know. I was a fool not to have planned for this.”
“You’ve a gift for understatement, my friend,” Markus said before lighting the cigarette and taking a deep draft that deepened the wrinkles in his weathered cheeks.
“You’re like a chimney,” Karl said, pounding his friend’s back. “It’s time to cut down.”
“Not likely,” Markus managed. He raised a silver eyebrow. “And you’re changing the subject. It’s time to marry the girl, Karl. I’ve made sure every piece of forged documentation is in place. Himmler won’t have a reason to deny your request for a marriage license. Marry her. As soon as possible.”
Karl shook his head.
“You love her.” Markus’s lips curved up again with humor.
His words were another punch to the gut. “It’s obvious?”
“You panicked back there.” The tip of the cigarette glowed as Markus continued to puff away. “You never panic.”
Karl kicked a rock across the grass. There was no doubt Allina desired him, she was responsive in bed and had clung to him the night before he’d left for Prague. She might even love him. But she still grieved. Not a night had passed without her coming awake, eyes wide with terror, her rigid body locked in a nightmare. And in the middle of the night, she sometimes called out her former fiancé’s name. Albert.
Then there was their child to consider, who would begin its life in danger, thanks to its parents’ Jewish heritage, their duplicity. Perhaps Allina and the baby would be better, safer, without him.
“I’m not sure I can protect her, or the baby. Not forever.”
Markus dismissed his whining with a pitying look. “No one can protect anyone anymore, not absolutely.” He took another long, slow drag that hollowed his cheeks. “But marriage is your best shot.”
“You think marrying a Mischling SS officer—one with forged papers working to topple the SS—is a safer bet than a peaceful, protected life at Hochland Home?”
“I do,” Markus said. “You’re still a Gruppenfuhrer and my forgeries are perfection. Marriage is the best protection you can offer. Go to her, Karl. But do it quickly. I’m counting on your return. We need to save whom we can.” He tossed the spent cigarette to the cement and ground it out with the tip of his boot. “I can slow down the neighborhood tours for a week or so. Heydrich wants new headquarters, so I’ll dispatch some men to assist him instead.”
“Heydrich?” Karl asked. “When did he start giving orders?” Heydrich meant Gestapo, and if the Gestapo pushed in, there’d be an endless series of complications.
Markus lifted his eyes to the sky. “Heydrich, Frank, von Neurath,” he muttered, naming the three currently jockeying for control. “What does it matter? They all report to Himmler in the end. And our Reichsführer has asked for a less-plush location,” he added, waving over his shoulder in the direction of the hotel.
“The Petschek Palace,” Karl muttered. They’d toured that modern monstrosity when they first arrived. The building had plenty of sealed rooms, both aboveground and below.
“Most likely,” Markus answered, smoothing back his silver hair. “Heydrich’s always preferred to conduct his special interrogations in the dark. The labyrinth of rooms in the basement are a perfect location.”
Karl scanned the hotel’s opulent carved stonework before turning away. In the end it wouldn’t matter which building they chose. The Flora was the finest hotel in Prague, but it had quickly become his prison.
There was no respite, no rest here, ever, and the energy spent hiding their covert activities often exhausted Karl to the point of numb blankness. When he’d arrived in Prague six weeks ago, the new orders had come down: they had eighteen months to plan and relocate 150,000 souls to parts of the city that were, as Himmler put it, “more suitable to the Jews and their situation.”
It was a nightmare.
By day, Gruppenführers von Strassberg and Klemperer were high-ranking officers, outwardly devoid of compassion, who barked orders and made notes on clipboards during their neighborhood tours. By night, they did the work that mattered.
They’d managed to get sixty children safely to England, but that effort had taken weeks of sleepless nights, secret meetings in back alleys, and the help of a network of local supporters—people who risked their lives without the protection of the uniform Karl wore.
Sixty children in a month, and even that pathetic number wasn’t the worst of it. The selection process was brutal. More often than not, they chose children with light hair and eyes, because they’d be easiest to place. If Karl was lucky, he could save a few hundred this way. Hundreds out of tens of thousands, maybe more. They couldn’t risk helping larger numbers. If too many children disappeared, word would spread, and if word spread, Karl and Markus would be found out, and that would jeopardize the effort everywhere.
There had to be a better way. Rumors had spread about a Londoner called Winton who’d had success in securing visas to Great Britain. The man operated out of his hotel in Wenceslas Square, though, which put him at risk. Winton was already under Gestapo surveillance.
Karl pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to erase the ache behind his eyes. No matter what he did to atone, it would never be enough.
“Tell me we’re doing the right thing, Markus. That we’re doing all we can.”
Markus gave him a long, measured look. “You’re tired. That’s my fault. I promised your father I’d protect you. I thought our work would be enough, but perhaps not. You’ve always had the soul of a poet, not a soldier.”
Karl turned away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“We’re saving lives,” Markus said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Every life matters.” He turned and headed back to the hotel without another word, forcing Karl to follow with acid burning in his belly.
“Send the letters today,” Markus ordered, as they ran up the steps and entered the lobby together. “One to Allina, letting her know you’re going on leave. Another to Himmler, asking him to expedite approval for your marriage. Stay with me for another week or two. Help me plan. Then go to her.”
Karl remained in Prague for ten days. They were the longest he could remember. Each morning on the neighborhood tours, he gazed coldly into the frightened eyes of men and women as they clutched their children—he’d become a master at faking that expression—and looked away when they bowed their heads and trembled. The rumors had gotten around about the impending relocations. People talked.
He managed on two hours of sleep each night, and when he rose at dawn, his first thought was of how many days were left until he’d see her. Those fleeting seconds were the only moments of lightness in Karl’s day. His thoughts didn’t go to Allina otherwise. The work was easier to bear if he didn’t think about her. But there was a sense of anticipation, a restlessness in his muscles and sinews, that every passing second was one closer to their reunion.
Allina wouldn’t look at him.
“Let me make sure I understand,” she said, averting her lovely face, now gone to ash. “You’re proposing we wed as a … practical arrangement?” Folding her hands, Allina placed them very carefully on the conference table in his den. “I should marry you for my protection,” she whispered, looking down at her fingers, “and the baby’s.” She cleared her throat. “Of course. I see why you’d ask.”
The sadness and confusion in her face made Karl’s gut clench. He was hurting her, pushing her away. It was the last thing he wanted to do.
When he’d arrived at Hochland Home last night, she’d welcomed him with sweet kisses and happy tears and pressed her warm, soft body to his. Karl was sure of her in those first moments, so confident she’d accept him that he whisked her away to the Sunflower House with plans to propose over dinner. Pregnancy had made Allina rosy cheeked and lit up from within, and her body had already begun to round out slightly. The need to be with her, to hold her, had eclipsed reason. He’d carried her up to his bedroom before dessert.
And afterward … well, Karl hadn’t planned to propose in bed, so he’d waited until this morning, then until after breakfast, but all his careful plans were in ruins. His logical explanations were ridiculous. He’d made a disaster out of a marriage proposal.
“I think—” He stopped to clear the sour grit that sat at the back of his throat and tried again. “I hope you agree that your well-being, and the safety of our baby, matters. It matters very much to me. I won’t let anything happen to either of you. You’re too important to—”
“Of course,” Allina interrupted. She rose and walked stiffly to the window, her hands together at the waist, making him wait.
When she spoke again it was to the windowpane, not him, and her voice was soft with memory. “When Albert proposed, my aunt and uncle told me I should marry him for my own good,” she said. “Did you know that?”
“No.”
Still gazing out the window, Allina gave an unladylike snort. “I hated that reasoning then as much as I do now, the idea that I need anyone’s protection. But my aunt and uncle insisted it was the right thing to do. And I loved him,” she added sadly.
She loved him. The truth cut deeply. For a moment he found it hard to breathe. “Of course. We both know I’m not Albert, don’t we?” he said, the question escaping in a sharp rush of bitterness. He winced, wishing he could take the words back.
Allina whirled around. “Why do you say that?” When he didn’t answer, she took a few steps closer, watching Karl with enough bluntness to make him shift in his chair. She was examining him with fascination, as if he were a pinned beetle on display.
It was time, though, time for honesty—so Karl answered her question by saying what he should have in the beginning. “Your Albert was a hero who gave his life for others. Of course you still love him. I’ve always known it.” He closed his eyes.
The air around him seemed to shift, and when he opened his eyes Allina stood before him with hands clenched so tightly they shook. Her face, on the other hand, along with her expression, had relaxed. Her gaze was soft with relief, and something akin to pity.
She sat down, took his hands in hers. They were such tiny hands, strong and calloused for all their outward fragility. “I’ve never spoken about Albert, have I?” she asked. “I think I need to. For both our sakes.”
“All right.” He could bear it. He’d sit here and listen to her talk about the boy she loved, as long as she agreed to marry him.
Allina took a deep breath. “Albert and I grew up together. We were childhood sweethearts. He asked Uncle for my hand in marriage when I was ten,” she added, smiling at the memory.
Karl nodded.
“He was my first love. My first crush, my first kiss, my first everything,” she said a little wistfully.
“I understand,” he managed.
“No. You don’t. I’ll always love Albert,” she said, blinking back tears. “It’s true. But I’m not in love with him … not now.”
Karl gaped at her, in disbelief at first, but in that moment when time slowed to a near-stop and his vision narrowed to her perfect face, he saw it: the love in her eyes.
Karl pulled her into his lap and buried his mouth in her neck, unable to do anything but inhale the sweetness of her rose-scented hair.
“I fell in love with you that first night, in the nursery.”
“You did not.”
“I did,” he said, lifting her long hair off her shoulders. “I’m an idiot. I should have asked you to marry me sooner.”
“But you haven’t asked me yet,” she teased, “not properly.”
His legs were still shaking, so he half fell onto one knee. Taking her hand, he slipped the ring from his pocket onto her finger. It was his grandmother’s ring, a pearl set in gold, and surrounded by a single row of rubies. It suited her perfectly. “Will you have me?”
Her smile was as bright as the sun. “Yes,” she said, stroking his cheek again. “I will.”
Then she kissed him.
Late that evening, Karl woke her with his laughter.
“What’s the matter?” Allina mumbled. Turning in his arms, she pressed her nose to his chest. Her face was soft with sleep. “What time is it?”
“Just after midnight,” he whispered into her hair, still faintly scented of roses. “Nothing’s wrong. I was reliving my winning marriage proposal. With hours to think about it on the drive home, I’d decided you should give up your Hochland Home duties.”
Her eyes popped open. “You can’t be serious,” she said, now fully awake. “There’s no way I’d consent to that.”
“I’m glad I didn’t ask, then. I was hell-bent on keeping you safe. I still am.”
“What does that mean?” Allina’s eyes narrowed. She was on high alert.
“Marrying me will give you a degree of protection in the short term. The forged papers and documentation I’ve used are pristine. But being the wife of an SS officer isn’t easy.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he hushed her with a kiss. He had to be honest with her, so she’d understand the risk they were taking—two Mischling parents with false papers harboring a Mischling child while working to subvert the Reich.
“It will put you in the spotlight. And we can’t make a single mistake. If our heritage is discovered—yours or mine—the lies will blow up in our faces. Our baby’s safety is at risk.”
“Then we’ll both be careful.” Allina lifted that damn belligerent chin of hers. “I’m not making light of the danger. But these children need us, Karl. There are so many who need us.”
“I know that.”
“We must fight for what we know is right—and for the world we’re bringing this baby into.” She grabbed his hand and placed it over her belly. “We’re stronger together. Tell me you believe that.”
“I do,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You’re my heart.” And my strength.
Her eyes glowed at his admission and she settled, pressing her cheek to his collarbone. He stroked her hair, trying to coax her back to sleep. When her body tensed, Karl knew their conversation wasn’t finished.
“Things are worse than you let on, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.” He didn’t answer, and she pressed a feathery kiss to his jaw. “Please. I know from your letters how unhappy you’ve been.”
So she wanted the truth from him. Again. There was a mountain of ugly truth to tell.
“There was no resistance on the day we entered Prague,” he said. “No confrontations, no outward struggle. You could see the fear in their eyes, though, as they tossed bouquets of flowers at the motorcade. They cheered us. They were petrified.”
“Go on,” she whispered. She trailed a finger along the length of his arm, working from shoulder to wrist and then back up again. But even Allina’s touch couldn’t ease his bitterness.
“They sensed what’s coming. We go through the neighborhoods, day after day, making our lists, checking papers, documenting, reassigning, then transporting…” Karl broke off, because he couldn’t tell her the worst of it, about the men he’d seen imprisoned, or the ones he’d known would be tortured. No, he hadn’t the right to make her bear that. “Most try to appease, or do their best to blend in, to disappear.”
He paused to clear his throat. “Last week, a young mother pleaded with me in the street while we were processing her paperwork. She was young, your age, but she pushed her child into my arms. ‘My daughter has blond hair and blue eyes, can’t you see that?’ she asked. She begged me for food, then offered me her body if I would find a way to save her child.”
The finger stopped, hovering like a butterfly over his skin. “You don’t think she found out that you’re helping…”
“No,” he said, “she was a desperate woman, pleading with a man in power. But all I could think was: This woman could be a relative, my cousin. Or yours.”
Her eyes were dark and liquid in the dim light. “What did you do?”
“I told her no,” he said, averting his gaze. He couldn’t bear to see disgust in Allina’s eyes. “I scribbled down her name and address, put it in a drawer. In a week, we’ll get a local contact to her. If she hasn’t been moved already.”
“You’ll save that child,” she insisted. “You’ll find a way.”
“If I do, it’ll leave a mother childless. That woman won’t see her daughter again, not while she’s on this earth.” He pulled her into his arms, unwilling to say the words. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
There were tears in her eyes now. “Yes.”
He buried his face in her neck, breathed in the sweetness of her hair.
“I’ve been close to despair, too,” she said, wrapping her arms around him and holding on tight, “about the children here.”
“Ridiculous,” he muttered against her neck. “The program’s a success.”
“That’s true, but we’ve helped so few—there are hundreds more at other Lebensborn facilities we can’t save, even if we manage to train dozens of officers to expand the program.” Her voice was thick with pain. “As for our successes … at lunchtime, they salute a picture of the Führer. They thank him dutifully at each meal. God knows what they’ll become.”
“But they’ll live.” He kissed her, because there was nothing else to say. Life meant hope.
“How long can we continue like this?” she whispered.
“As long as we need to,” he said. “There’s nothing more we can do about it tonight. Go to sleep.” He gathered Allina against his chest and stroked her hair until her breathing slowed and her limbs were soft with sleep again.
He’d tell her more tomorrow if she insisted, and assure her that he could hold on, that they both could. Adolf Hitler wouldn’t remain in power for long. He’d make sure of it.