Winter of the World

Macke did not quite have the nerve to arrest and torture Werner. It could be done, of course, but Dorn might well kick up a fuss, and then Macke would be questioned. His boss, Superintendent Kringelein, who did not much like him, would ask what hard evidence he had against Werner – and he had none.

But this ought to reveal the truth.

The door opened again, and two prison guards entered on either side of a young woman called Lili Markgraf.

He heard Werner gasp. ‘What’s the matter?’ Macke asked.

Werner said: ‘You didn’t tell me it was going to be a girl.’

‘Do you know her?’

‘No.’

Lili was twenty-two, Macke knew, though she looked younger. Her fair hair had been cut this morning, and it was now as short as a man’s. She was limping, and walked bent over as if she had an abdominal injury. She wore a plain blue dress of heavy cotton with no collar, just a round neckline. Her eyes were red with crying. The guards held her arms firmly, not taking any chances.

‘This woman was denounced by a relative who found a code book hidden in her room,’ Macke said. ‘The five-digit Russian code.’

‘Why is she walking like that?’

‘The effects of interrogation. But we didn’t get anything from her.’

Werner’s face was impassive. ‘What a shame,’ he said. ‘She might have led us to other spies.’

Macke saw no sign that he was faking. ‘She knew her associate only as Heinrich – no last name – and he may have used a pseudonym anyway. I find we rarely profit by arresting women – they don’t know enough.’

‘But at least you have her code book.’

‘For what it’s worth. They change the key word regularly, so we still face a challenge in decrypting their signals.’

‘Pity.’

One of the men cleared his throat and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. He said he was the President of the Court, then read out the death sentence.

The guards walked Lili to the wooden table. They gave her the chance of lying on it voluntarily, but she took a step backwards, so they picked her up forcibly. She did not struggle. They laid her face down and strapped her in.

The chaplain began a prayer.

Lili began to plead. ‘No, no,’ she said, without raising her voice. ‘No, please, let me go. Let me go.’ She spoke coherently, as if she were merely asking someone for a favour.

The man in the top hat looked at the president, who shook his head and said: ‘Not yet. The prayer must be finished.’

Lili’s voice rose in pitch and urgency. ‘I don’t want to die! I’m afraid to die! Don’t do this to me, please!’

The executioner looked again at the court president. This time the president just ignored him.

Macke studied Werner. He looked sick, but so did everybody else in the room. As a test, this was not really working. Werner’s reaction showed that he was sensitive, not that he was a traitor. Macke might have to think of something else.

Lili began to scream.

Even Macke felt impatient.

The pastor hurried through the rest of the prayer.

When he said ‘Amen’ she stopped screaming, as if she knew it was all over.

The president gave the nod.

The executioner moved a lever, and the weighted blade fell.

It made a whispering sound as it sliced through Lili’s pale neck. Her short-cropped head fell forward and there was a gush of blood. The head hit the basket with a loud thump that seemed to resound in the room.

Absurdly, Macke wondered if the head felt any pain.

(iii)

Carla bumped into Colonel Beck in the hospital corridor. He was in uniform. She looked at him in sudden fear. Ever since he had been discharged, she had lived every day in fear that he had betrayed her, and the Gestapo were on their way.

But he smiled and said: ‘I came back for a check-up with Dr Ernst.’

Was that all? Had he forgotten their conversation? Was he pretending to have forgotten it? Was there a black Gestapo Mercedes waiting outside?

Beck was carrying a green hospital file folder.

A cancer specialist in a white coat approached. As he went by, Carla said brightly to Beck: ‘How are things?’

‘I’m as fit as I’m ever going to be. I’ll never lead a battalion into battle again, but aside from athletics I can lead a normal life.’

‘I’m glad to hear that.’

People kept walking by. Carla feared Beck would never get the chance to say anything to her privately.

But he remained unruffled. ‘I’d just like to thank you for your kindness and professionalism.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Goodbye, Sister.’

‘Goodbye, Colonel.’

When Beck left, Carla was holding the file folder.

She walked briskly to the nurses’ cloakroom. It was empty. She stood with her heel firmly wedged against the door so no one could come in.

Inside the folder was a large envelope made of the cheap buff-coloured paper used in offices everywhere. Carla opened the envelope. It contained several typewritten sheets. She looked at the first without removing it from the envelope. It was headed:

OPERATIONAL ORDER NO. 6

CODE ZITADELLE

It was the battle plan for the summer offensive on the Eastern Front. Her heart raced. This was gold dust.