just to have the torturers stop their work. Well, that sort of confession isn't any good. It can always be repudiated. I'm sure that if I took that pair of pliers and tore off Frau Nordheim's fingernails and toenails, and then lit a good cigar and sprinkled the hot ash over the raw wounds, she would probably tell us she had planned to assassinate Der Fuhrer himself. But you see, Willi, if you're going to be an officer, you have to learn to differentiate and to discriminate. That comes with experience, my boy. Not that you haven't done well—I'm very pleased with you, and with Manfred too. But at this point, what we're going to do is leave Frau Nordheim on the table as she was just before you tried to give her a drink, Manfred. And then we're going to walk out and leave her, and let her think about what can happen to her. A naughty girl like this doesn't deserve a clean swift death at the headsman's axe. Not at all. Nor hanging from a meathook with piano wire around that soft white neck of hers. No, that's too quick. Myself, I'd like to put a wooden stake up her dainty Arsch-hole, tie her hair to ropes from the ceiling and her thumbs up in the air to the ceiling too, so she'd balance herself. And when she got too tired, she'd let herself down to the stake and naturally it would penetrate into her bowels, which would hurt her a good deal but wouldn't kill her right away. We wouldn't make the stake long enough to reach the heart, naturally. Maybe that's what we'll do when we come back. I think we've earned a little beer and schnapps, boys, and maybe a bit of roast chicken. Let's go see what Frau Schneider, our good cook, has prepared for the evening meal.”
And the three Nazis walked out of the interrogation room and slammed the door behind them. They ignored Helga Nordheim's despairing shrieks of “Oh God—oh no, don't leave me, I swear I can't tell you anything more, but don't do that to me! Shoot me, behead me, kill me quickly, in the name of heavenly mercy! Oh Kurt, Kurt, why don't you come and save me—it hurts me so—I'm so afraid!”
CHAPTER NINE
When the police limousine arrived in front of the Gestapo headquarters, the sergeant who had shot Max Dornburg and arrested his lovely companion and sweetheart Trudy Heinzelman turned to the plainclothes men who were guarding Eva Jung and Erich Luvrow and remarked, “I've got a hunch that our fish belonged to the net that Oberst Mueller is putting out. Before you take them in for questioning, let me go on ahead and get in touch with him.”
The two men who were undercover agents for the Gestapo were quite familiar with the citywide search for those malefactors behind the publication of Till Eulenspiegel. One of them said, “You're quite right, Sergeant Katzmire. Good thinking. You do that, and we'll watch over your prisoners.”
Trudy Heinzelman wasn't thinking about escape, not after she'd seen her own lover shot down in the street before her very eyes. She wept helplessly, covering her face with her hands, while Erich and Eva in the back seat between the two agents, held hands and stared helplessly at each other as they looked out through the window of the limousine to see the grim gray building which all Berlin knew housed the implacable organization known as the Gestapo. It was the most terrifying secret weapon in the Third Reich. At any time of the day or night anyone within its range of operation knew when there might be a sudden hammering on the door and a command to open... then soldiers with rifles and Lugers would enter, headed by some mild-looking little man who you'd think didn't look anymore important than a mailman. But before he finished, someone in that dwelling was led out and maybe never seen again. And in the occupied countries, the Gestapo worked just as vengefully and swiftly, with a murderous silence and a far-flung organization which even the Allies grudgingly admitted was just about foolproof. Nowhere in Germany was it safe to say freely what
And the three Nazis walked out of the interrogation room and slammed the door behind them. They ignored Helga Nordheim's despairing shrieks of “Oh God—oh no, don't leave me, I swear I can't tell you anything more, but don't do that to me! Shoot me, behead me, kill me quickly, in the name of heavenly mercy! Oh Kurt, Kurt, why don't you come and save me—it hurts me so—I'm so afraid!”
CHAPTER NINE
When the police limousine arrived in front of the Gestapo headquarters, the sergeant who had shot Max Dornburg and arrested his lovely companion and sweetheart Trudy Heinzelman turned to the plainclothes men who were guarding Eva Jung and Erich Luvrow and remarked, “I've got a hunch that our fish belonged to the net that Oberst Mueller is putting out. Before you take them in for questioning, let me go on ahead and get in touch with him.”
The two men who were undercover agents for the Gestapo were quite familiar with the citywide search for those malefactors behind the publication of Till Eulenspiegel. One of them said, “You're quite right, Sergeant Katzmire. Good thinking. You do that, and we'll watch over your prisoners.”
Trudy Heinzelman wasn't thinking about escape, not after she'd seen her own lover shot down in the street before her very eyes. She wept helplessly, covering her face with her hands, while Erich and Eva in the back seat between the two agents, held hands and stared helplessly at each other as they looked out through the window of the limousine to see the grim gray building which all Berlin knew housed the implacable organization known as the Gestapo. It was the most terrifying secret weapon in the Third Reich. At any time of the day or night anyone within its range of operation knew when there might be a sudden hammering on the door and a command to open... then soldiers with rifles and Lugers would enter, headed by some mild-looking little man who you'd think didn't look anymore important than a mailman. But before he finished, someone in that dwelling was led out and maybe never seen again. And in the occupied countries, the Gestapo worked just as vengefully and swiftly, with a murderous silence and a far-flung organization which even the Allies grudgingly admitted was just about foolproof. Nowhere in Germany was it safe to say freely what
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