Storm Front (Twilight of the Gods Book 1) (40 page)

And Holliston wants me deader
, he thought, wryly.  The rebels would probably shoot him out of hand, but the SS would torture him first, then slaughter his entire family. 
Joining the rebels is the only hope for any kind of survival
.

“I’ll join you,” he said, simply.

“Glad to hear it,” Schulze said.  “You can have some sleep, then you can start work tomorrow morning.  By then, hopefully, we should have a clear idea of just what’s going on.”

Hans shuddered.  It was possible, he supposed, that most of the military would join the rebels, just like the Berlin Guard.  But it was equally possible that Holliston would take control of the entire
Reich
, save for Berlin itself.  If that happened, the city would come under siege... and no one, not even newborn children, would be spared the consequences when it finally fell.  He might just have joined the losing side.

But it doesn’t matter
, he told himself, as the guards reappeared. 
I’m dead anyway.

He frowned.  “If I may ask,” he said, “what happened to the
Fuhrer
?”

“He’s going to make a nice speech handing over power to the provisional government,” Schulze said, “and then he’s going to go into exile.  There’s nothing to be gained by killing him.”

“I suppose not,” Hans agreed.  He had no particular dislike of the
Fuhrer
.  Besides, killing him would give the SS a martyr they could use for their propaganda.  “He was always a harmless fool.”

***

“Gudrun,” Herman said, as he entered the office.  It had taken him nearly an hour to work up the nerve.  “Can I have a word?”

His daughter looked tired, too tired.  She didn't have any experience in administration - hardly anyone did, outside the bureaucracy - but she was doing her best.  Herman couldn't help wondering just how long she’d keep the post, even though she’d been a student leader; there were others who were far more experienced.  And yet...

“Yes, father,” Gudrun said.  She sounded tired too.  She’d changed her shirt, at some point, but she looked as though she needed a shower and several hours of sleep.  “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to say I’m proud of you,” Herman said, closing the door behind him.  “And of your brother.”

“It could have gone very badly without him, father,” Gudrun said.  She waved him to a chair in front of her desk, pushing her paperwork to one side.  “And you.”

Herman nodded.  He’d believed in the new order, he’d believed in the state... but, in the end, the state had tried to gun down his daughter and thousands of innocent Germans.  And his entire family had turned against the state.  How could he argue with his wife, his daughter and all three of his sons?

“I do wish you hadn't done it,” Herman said.  The thought of his daughter in jail, or hanging naked from meat hooks under the RSHA, or being raped to death was terrifying.  Even now, even after the regime had been crippled, he still shivered at the thought.  “I...”

He shook his head, unable to find the words.  His father had told him that there would come a time when he'd look at his daughter and see a different person, but he hadn't believed the old man until now.  Gudrun was no longer a girl, or a young woman; she was an adult who’d taken her destiny into her own hands.  He still wanted to protect her, but he could no longer try to control her life.

“It had to be done,” Gudrun said, stiffly.  “I wrote those leaflets.”

“Yes, it did,” Herman said.  “And I’m proud of you for doing it, but I wish it hadn’t been you...”

He blinked in surprise as he registered what she’d said.  “
You
wrote those leaflets?”

“I did,” Gudrun said.  She met his eyes with a defiant stare that reminded Herman, once again, of his own mother.  Gudrun’s grandmother had never taken any backtalk from her son when he'd been a child.  “I lied to you, father, but I’m not sorry.”

Herman shook his head.  A month ago, he would have exploded with rage.  He hadn't raised his children to lie to him, even if they did have to be less than honest with their teachers and the BDM matrons.  Now... now he understood.  Gudrun’s boyfriend had been crippled and the state had lied about it... and she’d taken a terrible revenge.  The rebellion might still be crushed - Herman rather doubted they’d rounded up
all
the SS personnel in Berlin - but the state would never be the same again.

“I understand,” he said, finally.  “Please don’t lie to me again.”

“I’ll try not to,” Gudrun assured him.  She changed the subject hastily.  “Did you get mother and the others here?”

“I did,” Herman said.  He would have preferred to keep the rest of his family well away from the
Reichstag
, but Gudrun was a known rebel and Kurt might well have been marked too.  If there
were
roving SS officers on the streets, Gudrun’s family might be targeted.  There just weren't enough police officers to ensure their safety anywhere else.  “They’re all in rooms in the
Reichstag
, even Frank.”

Gudrun’s face flickered.  Herman frowned, inwardly.  Gudrun had
never
liked the disgusting old man, even though her mother insisted that Gudrun clean his room every day.  Frank had
never
been a particularly decent man.  Hell, he’d been slipping into the bottle long before Herman had met and married Frank’s daughter.  The wretched drunkard had been a plague on the family ever since he’d moved in with his daughter.  And yet, there was something on Gudrun’s face...

He dismissed it.  There were too many other things to worry about.

“Get some sleep,” he advised.  “You’ll need it, I think.”

Gudrun yawned.  “There’s too much to do,” she said, softly.  Another yawn put the lie to her words.  “I have to work...”

“You’ll be making mistakes if you’re tired,” Herman told her, firmly.  “You have a bedroom here, do you not?  Get a shower, get into bed, get a good night’s sleep.  Things will look better in the morning.”

“Yes, father,” Gudrun said.  “And you get some sleep too.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Reichstag
, Germany

22 August 1985

“Using
Herr
Krueger is a gamble,” Gudrun said.

Beside her, Horst nodded in agreement.  He’d appointed himself Gudrun’s bodyguard as soon as she’d been given an ill-defined role within the
very
provisional government, rather than trying to obtain a high office for himself.  Given his role, which was probably included in one of the files taken from the RSHA, he’d felt it would be better if he avoided attracting attention.  Gudrun didn't seem concerned about his former masters, but not everyone would take the matter so lightly.

“Yes, it is,” Volker Schulze agreed.  He turned to stare out of the window at the afternoon sky, then looked back at them.  “Using
any
of the
Reich
Council is a gamble.  But we don’t have many other experienced people.”

Horst had to admit he had a point.  The provisional government was slowly making contact with military bases and police stations outside Berlin, trying to build up a picture of just what was happening, and it was becoming alarmingly clear that a great many senior officers were dead or sitting on the sidelines.  Thankfully, the SS hadn't quite realised just how much the
Heer
had focused on training its soldiers to use their initiative.  SS troopers had killed senior officers, only to be killed themselves by junior officers, NCOs and ordinary soldiers.  But it had created a horrible mess that wouldn't be solved in a hurry.

“We can’t trust him,” Gudrun said, slowly.  “Can we?”

“He hasn't enriched himself excessively,” Schulze said.  “I believe he has the best interests of the
Reich
at heart - and, right now, those include a peaceful transfer of power.”

“I hope you’re right,” Gudrun said.  “Has there been anything from Germany East?”

“Nothing,” Schulze said.  He smiled, rather tightly.  “But apparently there
have
been a few mutinies in South Africa.  The SS dropped the ball rather badly.”

Horst wasn't so pleased.  The troops in South Africa were unlikely to side with the SS, but they’d be reluctant to fight the
Waffen-SS
.  They’d been fighting beside them for the last two years, after all.  But it probably didn't matter.  Getting the troops back to the
Reich
would take far longer than they had, he suspected.  The impending civil war would be fought with what weapons and manpower both sides had on hand.  Thankfully, Schulze’s union included hundreds of men with military experience and there were thousands more in Berlin - and hundreds of thousands in Germany Prime.

“I may need you to speak to the French,” Schulze added.  “
And
the Italians.  God alone knows which way they’ll jump.”

“Offer them their political freedom,” Gudrun said.  “Trade that for them staying quiet for the next few months.”

Schulze looked uncomfortable.  “They’ll want parts of Germany Prime too.”

Horst nodded, sourly.  Occupied France had been annexed, to all intents and purposes; native Frenchmen had been driven out and replaced with German settlers.  If the provisional government tried to return the territory to France, there would be another outbreak of civil war.  But the French would never forgive the Germans for keeping their land.

“We can sort that out after the war,” Gudrun said.  “Can’t we?”

“Perhaps,” Schulze said.  “But they’d have to be fools
not
to take advantage of our weakness to demand concessions.  Their government is so unstable that it might go under any day now.”

He dismissed Gudrun.  Horst followed her back to her office, then smiled as she closed and locked the door.  But Gudrun seemed to have something else on her mind.

She met his eyes.  “Does he
have
to worry about the French?”

“The government in Berlin, no matter who runs it, has to worry about the French,” Horst said, thoughtfully.  “They’re not going to go away.”

“No,” Gudrun agreed, after a moment.  “But we’re not going to go away either.”

Horst settled back in his chair as she returned to her desk and went to work.  It was astonishing just how much paperwork was involved in forming a new government, particularly when very few of the people involved had any experience at all.  Schulze, at least, had founded and run a union for a few weeks before becoming the leader of the provisional government.  Gudrun had nothing more than theory and his advice to guide her.

“You might want to watch Voss,” Horst advised, when she read through his file.  “He was always ambitious.”

“That’s the problem,” Gudrun agreed.  She yawned suddenly.  “Everyone who climbed to the top in the old government was ambitious.”

“Time for you to get some rest,” Horst said.  He rose and held out a hand.  “You can sleep in the bed.  I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You take this bodyguard job too seriously,” Gudrun said, rising.  A faint blush coloured her cheeks as she checked her watch.  “I could stay up for longer...”

“It’s nearly midnight,” Horst said, firmly.  “It's time for you to go to bed.”

He concealed his amusement with an effort as they headed up to the residence level and walked down towards Gudrun’s suite.  Her entire family was currently living in the
Reichstag
, along with the families of several other rebel leaders.  Horst was surprised she’d managed to wrangle herself a separate suite, but he had to admit it was a relief.  He knew her father would have made a fuss if he
knew
he was sharing a room with her, even if they weren't sharing a bed.

“You know,” Gudrun said, as they entered her suite and closed the door, “you need a shower.”

Horst blinked.  “I do?”

“Yes, you do,” Gudrun said.  She pointed to the door leading into the bathroom.  “Get in there.”

Horst did as he was told.  Moments later, she joined him - and, when he turned to face her, wrapped him in a hug and kissed him as hard as she could.

***

Hauptsturmfuehrer
Arul Falkenhayn braced himself as the helicopters swept over Berlin, heading directly towards the
Reichstag
.  Night had fallen - half the city was in darkness - but he doubted they could maintain the advantage of surprise for very long.  There was no such thing, despite American propaganda, as a truly silent helicopter.  The rebels would have to be deaf as well as dumb not to hear them coming.

He glanced at his men, suited up and ready to go, and braced himself.  He’d have felt better if the entire battalion had been prepping itself to jump into hell, but he only had twenty-one commandos and three helicopters under his command.  The fourth helicopter had developed a fault that had proven maddeningly impossible to trace, let alone fix, before the mission had to be launched.  There was no way to know if it was just another example of the Demon Murphy striking at the worst possible time or deliberate sabotage.  Arul knew himself and his men to be loyal to the
Reich
- they’d planned to jump into Pretoria, after all - but the ground crews might not feel the same way.  One of them might just have been cunning enough to do something to a helicopter and get away with it.

“Ten seconds,” the
Strumscharfuehrer
shouted.  “Get ready!”

Arul stood, grabbed hold of the rappelling line, and prepared to dive out to meet his destiny.

***

Gudrun lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

She honestly wasn't sure why she’d given herself to Horst.  He was everything she wanted in a man - strong, capable and understanding - and yet, she hadn’t been taught to be so forward as to invite a man into her bed.  She had wanted him, and she was sure he wanted her, and yet part of her knew their relationship had just changed for good.  Konrad had wanted to go further than they had, she knew, and yet she’d been reluctant to commit herself to him completely.  Now...

But the world has changed
, she thought. 
Konrad and I thought we would have a whole life together.  Now... Horst and I may not survive the month
.

It scared her, scared her more than the sharp pain and blood when he’d gone inside her for the first time or the dull awareness that he could easily have gotten her pregnant.  They’d overthrown a government!  The
Reich
, a government that had endured since Adolf Hitler had taken supreme power, had been broken.  There was no going back.  And there was no future if they lost, either.  Perhaps that was why she’d finally given in to temptation.  What was the point in waiting for marriage, or at least parental approval, when they might be dead within a month?

She twisted her head to look at Horst, sleeping on the bed.  There was no SS tattoo marring his skin, unsurprisingly; he’d have some trouble explaining one if he’d ever managed to get naked with a student.  He was strong... but then, Konrad had been strong too.  No wonder he’d always worn loose clothes, she thought.  Students were not expected to exercise regularly, unlike boys in the Hitler Youth, but Horst was still more muscular than the average university student.  Someone might have been suspicious if they’d seen him shirtless...

Horst jerked awake as the alarms began to ring, one hand grabbing for the pistol he’d left on her bedside table.  Gudrun rolled over and out of bed, cursing her own nakedness as she searched for the light switch.  She didn't want to run out of the room without even a pair of panties... she clicked on the switch, then grabbed for her dressing gown.  It was better than nothing.

“Turn off the light,” Horst snapped, jumping to his feet and running around the bed.  His gaze snapped upwards as shots rang out over their heads.  “We have to get to the lower levels.”

He caught her hand, holding his pistol in the other, and dragged her towards the door.  She wanted to tell him to put some clothes on, but she was suddenly very - very- afraid.  The SS had managed to mount a counterattack, even though the military officers had believed it to be impossible.  Berlin was heavily defended, after all...

“They’re not trying to retake the building,” Horst muttered, as he opened the door.  His thoughts must have been running along the same lines.  “They couldn't have put together a large force or it would have been a great deal louder.  They’re just trying to kill as many of us as possible.”

“Just,” Gudrun repeated.  The building shook, violently.  Dust drifted down from the ceiling.  “What do we do?”

“Get out of the firing line,” Horst said.  He didn't seem troubled by his nakedness, even though doors were opening all the way down the corridor.  “Move it!”

***

Arul knew there was no point in playing games, not when the element of surprise was rapidly slipping away.  The helicopters swept their machine guns across the rooftop, wiping out the guards before they could put up a fight, as the commandos dropped down to the roof.  He silently saluted the designers - the layer of armour under the stone had resisted the bullets effortlessly - as a missile slammed into the hatch, opening a pathway into the
Reichstag
.  A second later, another missile lanced towards one of the helicopters, which exploded with staggering force.  Thankfully, its complement of commandos were already on the roof and heading into the building.

No hope of escape now
, Arul thought, as he heard the chatter-chatter-chatter of machine guns, deeper and heavier than the weapons mounted on the helicopters.  The forces on the streets had responded with remarkable speed, despite the confusion. 
But then, this was always a suicide mission
. 

He cursed under his breath as he threw a grenade ahead of him, hastily recalling the building plans he’d seen.  There hadn't been any time to plan a proper operation, let alone gain the intelligence they needed; they’d been forced to decide, eventually, that all they could do was storm the building and kill everyone they met.  There was no way they could escape, not once the enemy was alerted.  All they could do was kill as many people as they could before they were wiped out themselves.