When the Sky Burns

By Heather Akena

"No matter how hard she tried to remember the dream, she could never get any further than that. The feeling it left her with was cold, foreboding, and empty, but why that was, she could never say . . ."

The year is 1942. Hitler's Third Reich was taking over the world, and I was right there with him, one of the darkest and deadliest secrets under his employ. But little did I know, it was also to be the year of my death. Mine . . . and a million others. My dreams tried to warn me of what was coming, but fate refused to be stopped, and my only hope is that RF-783 will save us all from the nightmares that plague us. My name is Amelia Reichert. Special Ops Linguistics Agent for the SS.

Lover.

Fighter.

Traitor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Oct 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479723065

Heather Akena

Heather Akena graduated Summa Cum Laude with a degree in Criminal Justice. She has been a published writer since the age of 11, being inducted into Who's Who for various achievements throughout the way. An avid language and history lover, she moved to Germany in 2006 to start work as a translator and research certain facts pertaining to this novel. In addition to English, she also speaks German and Russian, and currently resides in Braunschweig, Germany.

Book preview

Prologue

IT WAS OVER before it began. No one heard them coming, and no one saw them leave. They were the thief in the night, coming and going with their prize: their sense of security. Their sense of power. Everything they had believed in; everything Hitler had promised them. In one single moment . . . gone.

Paul! she screamed, clawing her way over the debris as the shrillness in her voice stung the restless night air.

Amelia!

The dust caked on her eyelashes, forcing her to keep her eyes shut and crawl blinded through the violent darkness. Paul sounded far away, but so did her own voice. He could be anywhere. The blast had temporarily deafened her, and it was all she could do not to give up. It was all wrong. So wrong . . .

Her thoughts were broken, and she gasped as she felt Paul clutch on to her and pull her backwards. Part of the ceiling gave way and came crashing down in front of them. The main walls were holding for now, but they wouldn’t be for long.

Are you hurt? he asked as he sat her up and ran his hands along her face.

She didn’t bother to answer, and Paul tried to pull her to her feet, but she sank back down again.

Amelia, we have to get out of here before this whole place comes down on our head! he yelled as he attempted to pull her back up.

She remained motionless, disheartened and disillusioned with the one who had promised to take her away from all this. The one who had said he would save her was probably the one trying to kill her, and she hated him for it, even if he had every reason to.

Make them stop! she screamed as she firmly pressed her hands over her ears like she could drown out her fate.

She was caught up in something bigger than all of them, and she could no longer bear the burden.

Come on, Paul begged as he tugged at her arm.

But she was powerless to move. The remaining ceiling cracked above her head.

Come on, Amelia!

She looked up as it gave way and fell towards her, and time seemed to stop in its place.

Make it stop, she whispered, as if to the ceiling itself. Just make it—

STOP!

Amelia’s body propelled her to a sitting position as she awakened and screamed out the remaining words. Her husband, Paul, looked back at her with a mixture of confusion, agitation, and worry blended into one in his facial expression.

"Well, it’s about time! Now come on, Amelia, I’ve been trying to wake you for the past twenty minutes. We have to go now."

Sorry, she mumbled as she slowly attempted to pull herself out of bed, grateful she was already dressed.

He pulled his hat on tightly over his hair and checked himself in the mirror again for the umpteenth time. What exactly were you dreaming about, anyway?

She smiled weakly as she slipped on her jacket and stuffed her hands inside the pockets. Nothing important.

But there was more to the dream, and she knew it. There had always been more, but years of therapy and medication had blocked it out, and no matter how hard she tried to remember now, she could never get any further than that. The feeling it left her with was cold, foreboding, and empty, but why that was, she could never say. Paul held out his hand to her, breaking her thoughts, and her smile seemed to be no longer genuine as she let him once again put the dream behind her like a distant memory that never was.

Chapter 1

October 7th, 1940

AMELIA HAD ALWAYS been the kind of person who hated waiting, especially when it involved her future as an employee of the SS. As far as the general public knew, it wasn’t normal in Hitler’s Third Reich to see women operating in such a position, but considering her past endeavors with this man, she knew just how far he was willing to go to accomplish his goals. There was no idea too crazy and no attempt too desperate, which was exactly why she was here now, pacing in front of the large, ominous doors that shut her out from the answer she so desperately needed to hear. Her heels made a soft click-click-click rhythm on the floor as she paced back and forth, chiding herself for entertaining thoughts that were not only dangerous, they were deadly.

She had once been Hitler’s favorite officer but was eventually reduced to an occupation far beneath someone like her: a secretary in her husband’s office. It was a long fall from grace that had left her broken and confused, but by the time it had actually happened, she had practically craved it like air she needed to breathe. It was a forgotten sense of normalcy that had helped her recuperate from the madness surrounding her, but she had eventually come to realize that she couldn’t be changed for the better. Her husband seemed to share the same sentiments as he continued to lose himself in his never-ending quest for power, and the same thirst began to awaken in her as well until she had eventually pleaded with Hitler for another chance to be the woman she used to be… back before her goodness had suffocated her to death.

He had reluctantly obliged, but after she had been so instrumental in helping obtain classified information for the Polish Invasion, Hitler had refused to let her stop there. For the last year, she had been heavily involved in Operation Supernova, a highly controversial project that she, along with a handful of others, had been thrust in to because of their knack for languages. Hitler wanted the Soviet Union to bow at his feet, and he would do whatever he had to to make that happen. There were those who said that the Soviet Union was still on Germany’s side, but whether they actually were or not, they were in the way of Hitler’s absolute monarchy over the world; and that meant that—sooner or later—they would have to go.

The goal of Operation Supernova was to train agents to learn Russian so well that they could actually be one of them, could move amongst them and destroy them from the inside out. It was an ingenious plan on multiple levels, and the meeting now was to determine who was in and who was out. Amelia had trained hard to be the best, but it wasn’t up to test scores now, and she frowned at the reminder that her husband was determined not to let her pass. Paul’s official occupation was that of SS-und Polizeiführer, but since he had once worked for the Gestapo and was also married to Amelia, Hitler had let him attend the final meeting, which was where he was now, trying to convince them not to let her in on the project at all costs. The thought that Paul was in there somewhere, plotting her downfall before she had even started, made her pace twice as fast as she wondered just how they would punish those who weren’t chosen.

Any word yet?

Her teammate, Josef Deichmann, was the one who had asked her the question, and she wondered how engrossed in her thoughts she must’ve been for him to seemingly appear out of nowhere like that. Still, she smiled softly and shook her head to tell him the meeting wasn’t over yet, and he nodded to acknowledge her.

Well, I wish they’d hurry up. I’m ready to go home for a while.

Her smile dissipated at the word ‘home’ until all that was left of it was a heavyhearted frown, and she despondently looked over at the man she had been partnered with for the last year. He had deep brown eyes that she could get lost in for days, and though he wasn’t that much older than her, his blonde hair was already starting to thin out in the back, and it was obvious that he would be balding in a couple of years. She didn’t speak to many people per Paul and Hitler’s orders, but she couldn’t help herself when it came to Josef. He made her feel like a better person—something Paul never did anymore—and on more than one occasion, she found herself wishing Paul was him. She and Josef had been out together several times on training exercises, but she was under strict orders not to tell him what was really going on behind the scenes, and it was a command that she had vehemently followed to the letter. As far as Josef knew, she was a wide-eyed, twenty-year-old nurse named Amelia Brand who worked at one of the hospitals in Babelsberg. But if he knew the truth, he would probably never talk to her again… and if that’s all that happened, she’d be getting away easy.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, tapping her index finger against her arm with nervous energy. She wasn’t twenty, she was twenty-six. And she definitely wasn’t a nurse; far from it. Though she did menial tasks for the SS now, it paled in comparison to what she used to do for Hitler before he started attacking other countries out in the open. She put her mental wall back up and focused her attention back on the magnificent doors beside her. Whatever her fate was, she just wanted to know it.

You all right? Josef asked worriedly as he looked over at her.

She nodded but didn’t bother to give him a verbal answer. He took her gently in his arms, and her playful smile returned before she lightly pushed him away.

Come on, Josef, not in public.

He smiled apologetically and nodded to say he understood, even though he didn’t really. It seemed simple enough: she didn’t want people to know they were in a relationship so it wouldn’t hurt their chances of being in a team in the future. But there was something odd about it; something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She was incredibly distant for someone who claimed to have feelings for him, and it seemed like every time he asked her out lately, she turned him down. In fact, they’d only ever been out on a date once, and after he’d kissed her at the end of it, she’d been acting strangely ever since. Though she had said it hadn’t bothered her, to Josef, actions spoke louder than words. But she had warned him that she was the type of girl who liked to take things very slowly, especially with war breaking out all over the place. It was something that made both complete and no sense at all.

But he would have to understand because he, too, had secrets. Secrets that were weighing on him like a ton of bricks that he hoped no one would ever find out. He was already fluent in Russian and had been ever since he was a young boy, but he played dumb for her. His reasoning had been simple in the beginning: he loved her, and he knew that, as an avid Nazi, she would never understand what he was really doing and who had sent him there. But simple reasoning had turned into complex lies that were becoming increasingly harder to maneuver around, and he began to wonder if the Gestapo had found out about him and were deciding what to do with him.

Josef, calm down. You’re sweating.

He looked at the beautiful, raven haired woman standing in front of him and immediately found it impossible to concentrate on anything but her. She could always take his mind off of anything that was weighing him down, and he loved everything about her. She was smart, gorgeous, and had a problem with authority, but she also exuded a quiet strength and gentleness that he couldn’t even begin to understand. She was an enigma—something that enticed and confused him all at the same time—and it was that very part of her that kept him coming back for more.

The doors finally creaked open, and dozens of SS and Gestapo agents walked out, enveloping them in a sea of black uniforms. Josef merely watched as she saluted when Hitler came out last with a shorter, yet sinister looking man beside him hanging off every word he was saying. Hitler stopped in front of her and nodded, looking agitated and somehow more…

Frail.

Sieg Heil, mein Führer, she barked, raising her hand in a stiff salute.

No matter how frail he looked, the man was still terrifying, and Josef frowned at her continued allegiance to such a psychopath.

Amelia, Hitler answered gruffly, ignoring her public display of affection before briskly walking off in the other direction like he had better things to do.

She looked briefly deflated, if not a little annoyed that he didn’t acknowledge her attempt to show her devotion, and Josef felt sick as he suddenly realized the potential ramifications of trying to get Amelia to switch sides. Nazis couldn’t change—at least that’s what the Soviets were always beating in to him—but he had to prove them wrong. He had to.

I need to talk to you, Paul said gently as he took Amelia’s arm.

About what? Josef piped up from behind her.

About none of your concern, Mr. Deichmann, he retorted, clearly agitated that someone was making an attempt to talk to him.

His voice was much louder than his stature, but Josef didn’t dare laugh at him for it. And though he was sure Amelia must’ve never seen this man before in her life, she appeared willing to go along with him, and Josef spoke up again to try to keep both of them where they were.

Did you decide on the agents Hitler will be sending in for Operation Supernova?

Paul looked behind him to see Hitler scurrying down the hall and animatedly talking to one of his assistants, who fought to keep up with his babble as she wrote an updated to-do list.

Say that a little louder, why don’t you? he snapped. I don’t think they heard you in the Soviet Union!

They will.

Sorry, Josef responded, stifling a smile.

Yes, we’re finished with that discussion, which is precisely why I need to talk to Amelia, so if you’ll excuse us—

Did I get in?

Paul had already turned around with her by the time Josef had gotten up the nerve to ask his question, and Paul no longer bothered trying to hide his growing agitation at the man seven inches taller than him. He tucked a stack of papers neatly underneath his arm like they needed to be protected from Josef’s curiosity.

Yes, you’re on the list.

Who else?

Paul pursed his lips, and Amelia thought he might explode.

"If I had known you were the type of person to ask so many questions, Mr. Deichmann, I would have recommended that you stay off the list."

The look on Josef’s face didn’t waiver, and it was a brazen defiance that said he was still waiting on an answer.

Just you, Amelia, and about four others, Paul reluctantly admitted before taking her arm again.

He appeared unconcerned for the others who didn’t make it. So why am I not involved in this discussion if I’m one of the ones who made the cut, and I’m standing right here?

Paul exhaled loudly and snapped his fingers at another officer, who promptly came over.

"Would you please take him in to the debriefing room and fill him in on the project?"

The man nodded and grabbed Josef firmly by the arm, leading him in a way that said any other questions he might have wouldn’t be answered to his liking.

Finally, Paul muttered as he walked with her down the hallway.

What’s going on? Amelia asked once fear and curiosity had both gotten the better of her.

You know I don’t approve of this, Amelia, he sighed resentfully. And I said that… several times… but I was generally overruled.

By whom?

Hitler.

A slight smile began to cross her face but just as quickly disappeared again before he could call her out on it, and he hesitantly continued on.

That, and your instructor put in such a good word for you that it was kind of a closed deal from the beginning.

And Josef?

Paul waved his free hand like he was trying to swat an annoying fly. Yeah, he’ll do.

Who were the other four on the list?

He made a face at the way she insisted on talking about a situation he wanted her to have no part of. No one you need to worry about right now.

She didn’t speak again, and as they walked down the hallway together in silence, she allowed her thoughts free reign to consume her over the path she had now chosen. It had been years since she was someone of importance, since people had looked up to her in the spotlight… had feared her. Back before she had merely settled for the sake of an argument and learned to love what she used to loathe.

Paul put his hand against the small of her back to lead her out of the main doors, and she cast a wary glance at him as she tried to figure out if Hitler had told him anything about her past. His disinterested expression told her he was still clueless, but she couldn’t help but wonder how long that would last. He never really knew just what she had done for work before now, and she had never been allowed to tell him. Since Hitler had eventually decommissioned her, it hadn’t been a problem in the beginning, but once Paul started chasing after respect and power, her old personality had slowly but surely returned, and she had let it… simply for the fact that it just felt good. She wanted power like Paul had, she needed—

Amelia!

She stopped and turned around at the sound of Hitler’s voice. Though he had appeared almost indifferent towards her when he’d seen her earlier, the look on his face said that something had now happened to change all that.

Yes, Sir?

My office! he bellowed once he’d reached her. "Now!"

He was leaning so close to her face that she instinctively leaned backwards and stared at him like she was watching a caged animal at the zoo that scared her. Hitler was the only person she still feared, but he was also the only person she was supposed to.

Is there a problem? Paul asked uneasily.

Hitler indignantly shook his head, more at an inner conversation he was having with himself than anything Paul had actually said. "This doesn’t concern you, Paul. So if you don’t mind, I need to speak to your wife for a second… alone."

She looked terrified, and it only reminded Paul that much more why he had advocated that Amelia not be allowed in on Operation Supernova. The constant reminder that she was in way over her head made his mood take an irrevocable turn for the worse, and he shook his head decisively.

"Well, frankly, Sir, if it involves Amelia, it involves me, too. She is my wife, after all."

She looked surprised at his choice of words but didn’t choose to argue with him, especially if he was willing to help her. I would actually rather have him with me, Sir, if that’s okay.

Hitler grunted heavily in disapproval, and Amelia wondered to herself if she had somehow failed a test somewhere she didn’t know about. He abruptly turned around and walked away, motioning for them to follow him.

So what’s this about? Paul asked once they were safely inside Hitler’s office.

I assume you remember the Poland project? he started as he plopped down at his desk.

Amelia winced at the tone he was using. Though she had fulfilled her original duties to the letter, something had gone wrong in the process, and now there was a man out there who had proof of every single thing she had ever done in the name of Adolf Hitler. She had sworn to Hitler that she would find him, but so far she hadn’t managed it, and the look in Hitler’s eyes said that she was about to pay a heavy price for it.

Yes, Sir, of course, Paul answered for her, unaware of their inaudible exchange.

There was someone on that project who got away, wasn’t there? Hitler said condescendingly as he glared at her, firmly crossing his arms to accentuate the question.

She swallowed hard, and Paul furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked over at her. The only thing he knew about Amelia’s time in Poland was that she was supposed to be gathering intelligence for the Polish invasion; but if he knew just what else she had done, he would either kill her or be proud of her, and it wasn’t a game of roulette she was willing to play just yet.

Wasn’t there, Amelia?! Hitler boomed, bringing her back to the subject at hand.

Yes, Sir, she whimpered.

The fact that he was bringing up an issue that made her so ashamed could only mean that there was new information on the subject, and he didn’t disappoint.

The man who has your file has turned up again.

It was a vague sentence at best, and Paul’s right eyebrow went up to ask for clarification, but to Amelia, it was all too clear. The man who knew all her secrets, all her lies, and all her crimes against humanity didn’t die from his injuries like she had hoped. Now he was back, and she knew better than to think it was for anything good.

Where? she asked once she had found her voice again.

The left corner of Hitler’s mouth turned up into a twitching sneer. He’s right here in Berlin, selling your name to the highest bidder.

Her eyes widened in disbelief, and Hitler looked like he was about to go crazy with rage, something she couldn’t entirely say she would blame him for. If his enemies knew just what she really was—

I don’t see why he’s bothering, Paul said skeptically, breaking her thoughts. After all, she wasn’t as instrumental in the whole operation as her partner, Michael, was.

Hitler cut his eyes to her, approving the way she was still keeping her cover in tact. "Michael Lang is dead, Paul. Amelia is alive, and that is what makes all the difference."

In truth, she had been far more involved in the situation than Paul thought she had, but the reminder of both why and how Michael had died soured her mood that much further until all that was left of her fear was a vague scowl.

How did he get here? she asked after several minutes.

Hitler smiled at the strength that had returned in her voice. She was sinking further and further into a persona that was once considered dead, but now, here it was again: returning just as cold and vindictive as ever.

Apparently, Amelia, you were right that there was a traitor in our midst, he started with an eerie calm in his voice that was unlike him these days, and this guy who has your information has been attempting to meet up with him so he can sell it. We were tipped off about it by one of the Gestapo agents.

Amelia’s already bad mood only intensified at the thought. She had returned from Poland certain that they had a mole in their midst; it was the only way to explain how horribly wrong the situation had gone. And now, it seemed, Hitler had finally picked up on his trail.

Who is he? Paul asked as he instinctively pulled her closer like he wanted to shield her from some unknown attacker.

It was the first time he had acted like he cared about her in months, and Amelia looked startled at the contact but quickly exchanged it with a placid expression.

Who is who? Hitler asked as if he had already forgotten the subject at hand.

The traitor.

Hitler waved his hand at a matter he considered so trivial. They never used names, according to the Gestapo agent who overheard the conversation through one of the wiretapped phones in the area. We’re closing in on him, but the only thing we know for sure is that he’s supposed to meet up with this other guy two days from now.

So, Amelia started with a nod, that gives us two days to find him.

I’ve already put someone on it, Hitler countered. He’ll be in touch once he finds this guy. After that, though, it’ll be up to the two of you to get rid of him.

Paul looked over at her as curiosity got the better of him, and she knew exactly what he was thinking: she was too inexperienced to deal with the situation and should bow out now while she still could. But that was the one thing she couldn’t do; not anymore. They had traitors they had to find, and she was more than capable of making them pay for their betrayal.

*     *     *

WHAT DID YOU learn? asked a tall, stoic looking Soviet when Josef ran up to meet him, panting for breath.

The debriefing should’ve only taken thirty minutes tops, but the old man doing it had run over the details like a tape stuck on slow speed, making him incredibly late.

The collar of the Soviet’s coat was pulled up around his face for warmth, and he didn’t look pleased at having to wait so long in broad daylight. In their line of work, punctuality was life or death.

I got in, Josef wheezed, putting his hands on his knees to fight for the air that stung his lungs. But they’re not gonna start up the project ‘til next week.

Then that gives you a week to get in better shape, the man said mockingly as he looked into the crystal blue sky that smelled heavily of rain.

I’ll make a note of that, Sergei.

He cut his eyes back down to Josef and pulled up on his arm to make him stand up straight. Josef was twenty-seven, technically a man on all counts, but Sergei would always talk down to him no matter what. Josef was his subordinate, and the sooner he learned that, the better.

Tell them about me, he decided after several minutes. But make it appear like we met on accident. That should get the ball rolling faster, I think. You’ll have to find a way to get them to agree to meet with me in the Soviet Union, of course, but I assume that won’t be a problem for you.

Josef nodded in agreement, then changed the subject to something more pressing. There’s one more thing.

Sergei raised an eyebrow at the sentence. He hated surprises, but he had the feeling like he was about to get one.

Oh?

I managed to get a meeting with Aron Bachar.

His other eyebrow went up in a mixture of aggravation and slight interest. Aron Bachar was a Polish national who claimed to know what had really happened to Josef’s best friend and colleague, Michael Lang. Like Josef, Michael was also a traitor in enemy territory and had recently died trying to gather information on the Polish invasion, but Sergei failed to see how past murders were relevant to their current situation.

Josef, I’ve told you before that if you want to find out who killed your friend on your own time, that’s fine, but I fail to see what that has to do with—

He says the report he has tells us who Phoenix is.

Sergei shut his mouth mid-sentence in an effort to hear more. Several years ago, Josef had come across several encoded documents that were a scathing report on an agent that was codenamed Phoenix. But once Michael had died, the trail had gone cold and Stalin had thrown a fit that some of the most damning evidence of Hitler’s atrocities had now gone missing.

I tried to get him to tell me who it was over the phone, but he said I wouldn’t believe it unless I saw the proof right there in front of me. That, and I have to pay him for it first, obviously. It’s a pretty steep price, but I think it’s worth it. He wants us to meet him a couple of days from now, but I got him to agree to send some of the information to our base in the Soviet Union, just in case.

Sergei bowed his head in a slight nod, his way of saying his interest was now peaked. Fine. Tell him to meet us here in two days’ time; we’ll go from there.

Josef was just starting to answer him when Sergei waved him down and turned around to walk away.

Oh, and Josef, Sergei called out as he turned back around to face him and kept walking backwards. Don’t screw this up. I’m watching you.

Josef shivered in spite of himself before walking back towards his car. Some days, Sergei scared him more than Hitler.

Chapter 2

UNTIL HITLER OFFICIALLY started Operation Supernova, Amelia was still being forced to work part-time as a secretary in her husband’s office, and she found herself unable to wait for the day that her replacement would free her from her monotony. She had far too much to do right now to waste time playing Secretary.

BRIIIINNNGG!!

She jumped from the unexpected sound and ripped the phone off the hook, putting it up to her ear while her pencil rolled away like it wanted nothing more to do with her.

Paul Reichert’s office.

Amelia? It’s Hermann Göring. We found him.

He didn’t have to specify who he meant, and Amelia shot out of her chair like a rocket.

Where?!

He’s headed to meet someone in the Wannsee district to give up your information. Apparently, this guy is willing to pay quite a hefty price for it.

A hefty price, indeed, she snarled into the receiver. Did you find out who he’s selling it to?

Not yet, sorry.

She sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead with her free hand. Göring was one of the few people left who knew about her previous employment with Hitler, and he of all people should know how important it was that her information be kept as far away from Germany’s enemies as possible.

Well, don’t you think you should? she asked discourteously once it was clear he didn’t intend on saying anything else.

He scoffed loudly into the mouthpiece before answering her. Of course I do, Amelia, and I’m working on it. But right now, the most important thing is that you stop this guy before he makes it down there.

She agreed with him, and her silence only confirmed it.

He’s going to take the 2 P.M. train towards Wannsee at the Anhalter Bahnhof station, Göring added when she didn’t speak again. I imagine you’ll want to have Paul take him out before this guy actually makes it on to the train.

She rolled her eyes at the reminder that everyone expected Paul to solve her problems for her now.

I’ll take care of it, she grunted before promptly hanging up the phone.

Who was that?

She jumped at the question and quickly turned around to look at her husband. How long have you been standing there?

Long enough, he said flatly. Who was on the phone?

That was, uh, my contact, she offered after several seconds of uncomfortable silence. They’ve found the guy who has my information. He’ll be at Anhalter Bahnhof at 2 P.M., so we’ll have to find a way to get to him before he gets on the train.

Paul frowned at her suggestion and pulled up a chair next to her desk before plopping down heavily into it. He didn’t say anything for several minutes, and though she tried to hold his gaze, she just couldn’t seem to manage it.

Amelia, what happened in Poland? he asked with genuine concern in his eyes. What aren’t you telling me?

She moved her head from side to side, knowing that if she told him the real story, he would only find her that much more incompetent as a new agent under Hitler’s employ.

Nothing, she lied. But this guy knows that I was involved in at least one of Hitler’s projects, which means that, whoever he wants to sell my information to, they can’t want it for good.

His expression said he didn’t believe her but wouldn’t fight her on it for now as he patted her leg and stood up.

Come on, he whispered as he headed for his jacket. We’d better go ahead and get down there.

Chapter 3

AMELIA SQUINTED AGAINST the sunlight as she looked around the station. The magnificent windows of Anhalter Bahnhof glistened overhead as if to say they were proud of the SS officers below, all of them needing to be somewhere other than where they were right now. Paul ambled across the floor without a word to bark orders to those beneath him, and she folded her arms in jealousy, coveting his authority. It was a lost part of herself that she had recently begun to cling to in order to heal from her past, in order to forget that Paul was once the anchor that held her to the last remaining glimmer of her goodness. But now that part of her was flickering out and nothing remained but a bitter, power hungry woman who was incredibly lonely. The renewed stab of emotional pain turned her thoughts towards Josef, and she briefly wondered what she would do if he ever found her here like this…

He’ll never agree with what you do.

She shook her head to be rid of the thought and stared straight ahead without actually seeing anything. She was who she was, and no amount of love or coercion would change that… not anymore. People never changed for the better, and neither she nor Paul were living proof of that.

She grimaced at the thought and suddenly wished that she’d been able to see Josef again before now. There were times he made her feel like she could actually learn to be a better person… like she was just an unwitting pawn in this perverse game of madness. But that didn’t change the truth: that she was doing what she was doing now simply because she believed in it.

The trains came and went, droning loudly as they passed by in her ears, promising her that who she was looking for wasn’t there. But he was there somewhere, and he would pay dearly when she found him.

You find him yet?

The voice came from behind her, but she didn’t bother to turn around.

Does it look like I found him?

Paul snorted in disgust, the end of which was drowned out by another train pulling in.

He’ll be here, she muttered under her breath. My contact mentioned this station specifically.

I hope your contact isn’t just leading you on.

She cut her eyes to him, but he didn’t appear to feel threatened, and she dropped the subject to avoid another inevitable argument. As far as Paul knew, she and Hermann Göring had never met before, but if anything, Göring knew her better now than Paul did. Their contempt for each other began to fill the station until it threatened to explode.

I hate traitors, she said several minutes later. They’re the worst kind of people… if you can even call them that.

What would you ever do if you caught one?

The sickeningly sweet tone in his voice had returned, brought on by a common goal. She smiled, more to herself than to him, like it was a secret she wasn’t willing to share. He returned it, satisfied with her answer.

It was the sight of the short, gangly man stepping on to the oncoming train that wiped the smile off her face, and she reached back and slapped Paul in the chest to get his attention. He grunted against the unexpected contact but stopped once he realized what she must be staring at.

That’s him?

The doors were already closing, and she didn’t have time to answer him.

Hey! she yelled as she took off running for the train doors. Someone stop him, we need to talk to him!

Either no one cared, or no one was willing to try to keep the doors open as they slid closed and the train slowly began to chug away. She screamed in frustration and pulled at her hair as Paul caught up to her.

What was that train number? he demanded, unwilling to give up on a target so easily.

Two seven eight, she replied as she turned her head back to look at him.

Then let’s go, Paul barked as he turned around and headed in the other direction. We have to get them to stop the train before the next station. That way, he’ll have nowhere to run.

She smiled sadistically as she took one last, longing look at the train tunnel before turning around and walking back the way they had come. She would find him, and when she did, she would kill him.

*     *     *

HERMANN GÖRING KNOCKED forcefully on the majestic doors in front of him, waiting until Hitler’s voice from the other side told him to come in before doing so.

And? Hitler spat at him from the comfort of his desk chair. Did you find out who Aron Bachar is planning to meet?

He bowed his head in a slight nod. This is just a rumor, of course, but I still think it’s worth looking in to.

Hitler reached out for the folder in Göring’s hands, but the overweight officer reluctantly pulled back.

I warn you, mein Führer, you’re not going to like it.

Well, regardless of whether I like it or not, I’m going to deal with it, Hitler said curtly as he jumped up and snatched the folder out of Göring’s hands in one fluid movement.

Göring took a step back to shield himself from the explosive outburst he knew was going to come, but to his surprise, Hitler did nothing but scowl at the information in front of him.

How reliable would you say this information is, Hermann? Hitler asked calmly as he smoothed back his hair.

I would say it’s fairly reliable, he answered apologetically. Maybe eighty percent or so.

Hitler shook his head slowly, rejecting the idea that eighty percent was a good enough number. This operation is too sensitive to risk following anything less than a hundred percent. Of course, considering the fact that the previous information I had on Josef Deichmann was less than flattering, this does not bode well for him.

Göring nodded, already lost in thought of how much damage Josef could do if he were really trying to secure Germany’s secrets. The fact that he was now in Operation Supernova was bad enough, but if he managed to get his hands on Amelia’s file before Paul could stop him—

I’ll put Amelia on it, Hitler decided, making Göring snap back to the present.

Though he still wondered if she would be able to operate as competently as she once had, she was also the closest operative to Josef that they had at the moment, and until they found out his true intentions, they had no choice but to have faith in her.

Do you want me to be the one to tell her? Göring asked.

No, Hitler responded, shaking his head in time with the word. Just tell her I want to see her when she gets back. We’ll take it from there.

Göring saluted stiffly and promptly walked out of the room without another word while Hitler stared off into the distance, lost in thought about the man in the folder in front of him. He had already wanted to get rid of Josef once before when it had come to his attention that this man was actually Russian, but he was convinced not to do so by those who knew him best. They claimed he was incapable of being a traitor and favored the German side of his heritage, using the Russian one only to Germany’s advantage. But if he was a traitor, Amelia would find out, and Hitler smiled at the thought of all the ways she could torture the truth out of Josef before he even knew what was happening.

*     *     *

THE TRAIN SLOWED to a foreboding stop as she climbed on behind Paul, determined to only do her job and leave. The car was nearly empty, but all eyes were on them as they made their way down to the other end.

Who is it? Paul asked as he glared at anyone willing to look at him.

She scanned the faces of those on the train, only looking for one in particular, and was unable to stop the smile that crossed her face when she found him.

Him, she said with a nod in the general direction of a man hunched down over one of the seats.

He looked like he was either trying to avoid someone or had a disease he didn’t want anyone to catch, and Paul violently jerked him out of the seat by his collar and thrust him toward the open doors without a word. Amelia exited the train behind him, and the man cowered in fear on his knees as he hit the ground outside, covering his head with his hands in a feeble attempt to protect himself. It infuriated her, and she kicked him in the side to tell him so. He groaned as he rolled over and came to a rest on his back, looking up at blue sky increasingly covered by Paul’s face as he bent down over him.

I hear you’ve been talking to people you shouldn’t have, Paul said with a calmness in his voice that threatened uncontrollable brutality.

The man’s eyes darted back and forth as he looked for an avenue of escape, but he quickly realized that there wasn’t one.

I’m not! he wailed once he came to grips with the fact that his life was in their hands. I swear you’ve got the wrong guy!

Paul looked over at her to question her memories, and she mercilessly shook her head.

I was with you in Poland. You were with the general who stabbed us in the back once the right moment came along, and now you know about me… and we can’t have that, now, can we?

I don’t know anything!

She shook her head again. Wrong answer.

I won’t tell anyone, he asserted, switching tactics in a desperate attempt to survive. Please, I have a family—

She hated that excuse, and she kicked him again to tell him so. You should have thought about that before you started selling secrets to the enemy.

He looked up at her with a despondent expression that begged her to have mercy on him, though he knew there would be none. I hope you’ll be on my end one day, he whimpered as if he were trying to put a curse on her. Some day, you’ll be on our side, and when you look for mercy, they will shoot you down like a dog.

Enough, Paul growled as he pulled out his gun and shot the man point blank in the chest. Amelia didn’t even flinch at the sound, and she bent down several seconds later once the body had come to rest.

Looks like you’re taking a page from my book.

What? she grunted as she continued checking through the man’s coat pockets for the information she was looking for.

I mean that I’ve noticed you getting pretty violent lately.

She froze at the thought, remembering that the Paul who knew her best thought she was a warm, caring person incapable of violence. Hitler wanted her to keep up appearances, but it was becoming increasingly impossible the longer she stayed so close to the action. She had kept her husband in the dark for eight years, but even she had limits to her deception.

I guess I’ve just been hanging around you too long.

He frowned at the excuse, but as usual, she ignored him. Their marriage had taken a nosedive for the worse after she had returned from Poland, and recently, the only thing that was bringing them closer together was Amelia’s increasing thirst for blood. And even that was only on a professional—not a personal—level. It was strange to see her reacting in such a way that Paul had always considered her incapable of, and his curiosity only increased at her cry of victory when she pulled a dark brown colored folder out of the man’s inner jacket pocket.

Oh, great job, Paul, she scolded as she held it up enough for him to see. Now there’s blood all over it and a bullet hole through the middle.

Well, if I had known that’s where he was going to keep his information, I would have shot him somewhere else, he responded sarcastically.

He reached out for the folder, but she quickly pulled it back again. We should get this to Hitler.

The look on her face said he wouldn’t get any answers to the questions spinning around inside his head, and he motioned towards the way they had come, wondering for the first time in years just what kind of woman he had actually married.

*     *     *

JOSEF CHECKED HIS watch again and sighed heavily.

Forget it, Josef, he’s not coming.

He looked back at Sergei, who was perched on top of a low wall and carving furiously at an orange with his field knife.

He said he was on his way, though. He was getting ready to get on the train when I last spoke to him.

How long ago was that?

About forty-five minutes.

Well, either he lied or something’s happened to him, Sergei concluded as he jumped down from the wall. Either way, I’m done waiting around here.

Josef checked his watch one last time before agitatedly slapping his hands to his sides.

Good thing I didn’t tell Stalin about this, Sergei said light-heartedly as he firmly clamped his free hand down on Josef’s shoulder.

His tone was nonchalant, but the death grip on Josef’s shoulder told him otherwise.

I just can’t believe this is happening again, Josef said grudgingly. It’s like this Phoenix person is a ghost! Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, the trail goes cold again.

Sergei shook his head, either in disagreement or boredom, Josef couldn’t tell which. Well, maybe we’ll learn something from the information he sent to the Soviet Union… if he even sent it at all. But we have bigger things to worry about at the moment with this Supernova project starting up, and I need you to get me in the middle of it somehow, not to mention get them to agree to send you and this partner of yours to me in the Soviet Union. It’s the only way we can safely stage a situation to test her loyalty.

He nodded without really hearing him. Sergei didn’t trust Josef’s judgment of Amelia, that much was certain, and he knew that Sergei only really wanted to be in the middle of things to make sure he didn’t mess up again. Sergei felt like the only way to do this was to meet with her in Leningrad, that way she would never have a chance of making it back to Germany alive if she were really a plant of Hitler’s. As far as Sergei knew, Amelia was a possible dissenter who had expressed interest in working for their cause. But if he knew the truth, he would probably shoot Josef in the face for it, and Josef had no idea what Sergei’s supposed test even entailed, not to mention how to get Amelia to agree to go along with it. The whole complicated situation infuriated him, and he grit his teeth at the way no one ever seemed to just back off and give him time to try to process all the massive amount of information that ran through him on a daily basis.

Yes, Sir, he answered once he had successfully shoved down his pride.

There was only silence to answer him, and he turned around several seconds later to repeat his sentence only to find that Sergei was gone, and he had never even heard him leave.

Chapter 4

HITLER WAS SITTING at his desk studying the contents of folders with Top Secret stamped crudely across the front when Amelia walked into the room.

You wanted to see me, Sir?

He pushed back his chair, stood up, and motioned for her to come to him in one fluid movement. She warily obliged and walked closer, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs in front of the desk while Hitler leaned against the corner of its solid frame and frowned.

I hear you got the guy you were looking for? he stated matter-of-factly as he firmly crossed his arms over his chest.

She nodded, and he grinned broadly at her confirmation.

I assume you brought the information back with you? he asked while holding his hand out expectantly.

She didn’t bother to give him a verbal answer and handed over the mangled folder she had taken off the body several hours earlier. Hitler made a disgusted face at its appearance but didn’t seem willing to open it to see just how much of it was still intact.

Did Paul read it?

Her nod changed to a shake. No, Sir, but he’s starting to find an unhealthy interest in my past if you get my drift. He’s asked me several times now about what went down in Poland.

He raised his eyebrows as high as he could get them. And? Did you tell him?

She repeated her previous movements. No, Sir, of course not. You told me not to.

He nodded in approval and thrust the folder underneath a stack of several others. I’ll take care of it and get someone to retype this in the meantime.

Neither one of them seemed to have anything else left to say to each other, and she found herself studying the pile of folders on top of Hitler’s desk to try to make the best out of an uncomfortable situation. Several of them appeared to be brand new, and she craned her neck to look at the one on top. It started with an S-k, but before she could read the rest of it, Hitler caught her gaze and moved in the way of her field of vision.

Amelia, he started to bring her back to the present, do you think I’m doing good things for Germany?

She wondered what would possess him to even ask such a question, especially to her. "Of course! I think you’re doing great things for Germany. Great things for the world! Why would you even need to ask?"

He stroked his short mustache for a moment before answering. What would you do for me?

She laughed nervously, unsure of where this was going. Anything, naturally, she said nonchalantly while hoping he wouldn’t attempt to take her up on that.

Hitler smiled like he had heard her thoughts and took his weight off the desk before walking back around to his chair and sitting down in it. He thrust a folder at her near the top of the stack—though not the one he had previously been looking at—and she stared at its cover as she tried to wipe the confused look off her face. She hadn’t been authorized to look at anything top secret by herself without first having formal debriefing on it in years.

I don’t understand, she whispered as she ran her long, slender fingers down the length of the file like she wanted to open it but didn’t dare in case it was a trick.

Then let me break it down for you, Hitler said as he leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together over his abdomen. We have discovered a potential mole in our operation, one your husband approved of himself. And I want you to fix this oversight on his part since he is obviously incapable of doing so.

She nodded slowly as if she understood when instead a thousand questions were swimming around inside her head. Why her? What could this person have possibly done to warrant their death? Did this mean her previous employee classification had been reinstated?

Open it, Amelia!

She had no choice but to comply, and the moment she opened it, she immediately wished she hadn’t. Her hands started to shake, and a gasp escaped her throat that she tried desperately to suppress as Josef’s picture and background information stared her straight in the face.

Th—There must be some mistake! she blurted out.

Oh?

Hitler didn’t make mistakes. And if he did, someone else would get the blame, that much was sure because it routinely happened to Paul. She knew she had better rethink her words, and she’d better do it fast.

What I mean is… Sir… as you know, he was approved for Operation Supernova and—

"He can speak Russian so well because he is Russian! Hitler exploded as he slammed his fist down on the desk. How he made it this far, I do not know. But you mark my words, Amelia, this is going to be fixed, and you are going to fix it."

A mixture of shock and rage made its way from her feet to her face, flushing her cheeks with a red hue. Why me?

He appeared to be thinking of an appropriate form of punishment for her answer but abandoned the idea several seconds later as he cleared his throat loudly and ran his fingers through his hair to calm himself down.

The man Paul killed today, he started as his eyes burned at her like liquid pools of hatred. Do you know who he was rumored to be selling your information to?

She shook her head meekly. Göring didn’t seem to know.

Well, he found out shortly after you left, Hitler enlightened her, leaning forward to accentuate the sentence.

She moved her head slightly to the side in confusion. Well? Who is it?

Hitler motioned towards the folder in her hands, and her eyes widened in shock once she finally put two and two together.

Does he know I’m—

I don’t think so, Hitler interrupted. And this is, of course, just a rumor, but I would rather be safe than sorry.

She didn’t speak again as her worries began to consume her like a flood that couldn’t be stopped. What if he did know? She and Josef were supposed to be partners, working together for a common goal. But if he was a traitor with her information, she would have to do whatever it took to silence him, no matter how much she cared about him.

So forgive me if I find you the appropriate person to deal with this situation, Hitler snarled, abruptly slicing through her thoughts. Especially since you’re supposed to be his partner. And if memory serves me correctly, you don’t have any trouble killing partners.

Just let me talk to him, she pleaded, neither confirming or denying his accusations. You know there are a lot of people around here who don’t like him, but every time I’ve spoken to him, he has nothing but good things to say about you. He can’t be the person you think he is!

Oh, he’d better not be, Hitler hissed. "Because if he is, Amelia, and he knows what you were… what you are . . ."

He trailed off, but she didn’t really need him to finish the sentence and locked eyes with him so he could see the seriousness of her next statement.

If he’s not one of us, then I’ll kill him, she said indifferently. For the good of the Fatherland.

Hitler smiled, got up from his chair, and clapped his hand on one of her shoulders. That’s the attitude I like to see.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Could Josef, someone she had relied on for stability and strength, really be a traitor? He was her only connection to the last remaining remnant of who she used to be before Hitler had ripped her innocence away from her all those years ago, and the possibility that she might have to kill him was overwhelming. She hopped out of the chair and went out the door, hoping to find Josef before anyone else did. He wasn’t scheduled to be in the office today, meaning that she would have to track him down elsewhere. As she passed by her desk, she noticed a young girl, about nineteen, currently occupying her seat.

What are you doing in my chair? Amelia asked, lacing the question with disdain.

‘‘What are you doing away from your desk?’’ the girl shot back.

The look on Amelia’s face said she wanted to slap her for that comment, but the girl returned her evil stare with a look that said she refused to be afraid of someone she thought was just a secretary. The right corner of Amelia’s mouth turned up into a smirk as she shared in this woman’s sentiments, and their death stare competition was only interrupted by the sound of Paul’s voice.

So, I see you two have met.

Amelia cut her eyes to him without really seeing him. Who is this?

Paul walked up behind the girl in the chair and clamped his hands down on her shoulders. Amelia, I’d like you to meet Armina… my new secretary.

Amelia pessimistically locked eyes with him. I really think they could replace me with someone a little better than this, Paulchen.

He hated it when she called him that, and the flushing of his cheeks showed it. But if his height was any indication, he deserved the name. He was only 5’8’’, and he looked even shorter when standing next to Amelia, who was three inches taller. He also hadn’t aged much even though he had just turned thirty-six, and he could still pass for a teenager if he really wanted to. He really was a little Paul. She smiled at him sweetly, and he pursed his lips together in resentment.

You decided that being some big shot secret agent was more important, remember? he chided, using his middle and index fingers for quotations when he got to the word ‘secret agent’. "Armina was the first person who was available on such short notice.’’

Amelia wondered who this woman was, and why she was so special that Paul would mention her being a secret agent in public, even if he did use quotations.

Armina stood up and extended her hand, and Amelia glowered back at her, annoyed that she had broken her concentration. Armina either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

It’s nice to meet—

"Yeah, sure, whatever,’’ she muttered before promptly turning on her heels to go find another phone. There were more important things on her mind right now than meeting people she considered inferior and playing nice.

Even though Josef wouldn’t be back in the office until Monday, there was still no answer at his apartment once she found a phone to call him from, something very unusual for him. He was generally a homebody, preferring to stay at home every free second he