She nodded fervently. “Yes, sir. I never forgot her eyes. She yelled at me and my children to flee on the pavement outside the Opera House in Hanover. Shoved me. She was in a panic. And then…” She trailed off with a look of mingled fear and disgust.
“Very well. Ada Jakob, you are under arrest on suspicion of crimes against the state,” Ziegler said.
“No.” Audrey blinked at Friedrich. “No. No…” Her body felt disconnected from her brain.
Another of the men stepped forward and seized her arms. She watched, stunned, as the cold metal cuffs clicked into place. Adrenaline coursed through her like hot oil.
Friedrich’s voice filtered through, loud and outraged. “What is this?! I demand—”
“Frau Braun has placed Ada Jakob at the scene of the explosion on the fifteenth of April in Hanover.”
Audrey could see Friedrich calculating. Everyone in the higher ranks knew it wasn’t the gas tank that had exploded. But not Ada Jakob. She was too junior.
“That was an accident, wasn’t it?” she said, her voice wavering.
Friedrich bristled, began to argue with Ziegler.
One of the men opened the door onto the cool evening, preparing to leave, to take her God only knew where. But there was another woman on the porch. She stepped forward into the light and Audrey gaped.
Gerta Roth’s face was red, eyes glistening with tears. “I knew it!” she shouted. “I knew it was you! You killed my husband.” And she slapped Audrey across the face with a powerful vengeance that shocked her out of her disbelief.
“Frau Roth!” Ziegler barked. “I told you to wait on the pavement!”
Gerta retreated down the front steps. Frau Braun had joined her, arm around her shoulders.
Audrey’s eyes were watering.
Friedrich was still arguing with Ziegler, and for a second, she wondered if there was still a way out of this. But then it hit her: Friedrich’s defense of her now would only stoke the flames of suspicion that so easily jumped from one person to the next. She thought of Ilse upstairs, keeping Daniel quiet in bed as fear swelled at the sounds of commotion below. And she knew, in that moment, that Friedrich had to turn on her. He had to let her draw the attention away.
Audrey caught his eyes, gave a slight shake of her head, imploring him to stop, to not put himself at risk. In the depths of his dark pupils she saw his understanding, and the pain. Saw what it cost him to do it.
He hesitated for a heartbeat, then renounced her. “Fine, take her,” he spat, flicking a hand in disgust. “Get this traitor out of my house.”
PART IV
Love brought us to one death.
—Dante Alighieri, Inferno
Chapter 32
Audrey
BERLIN, GERMANY | MAY 1939
The cell in the basement of the Reich Security Main Office was a small, poorly lit room that smelled of damp and distress. It made Audrey wonder who had occupied this place before her, and what their fate had been, whether they were dead or alive. Was the stench in the toilet beside her all that remained of some poor soul who had come before? What a dreadfully arresting thought, that one could depart this earth and leave behind nothing but the sour smell of urine in some dank basement cell.
She was guarded by two Nazis who looked so much alike that she wondered if they might be twins. But a lot of them looked alike to her now, especially the young ones. The same haircuts, colouring, and pale lashes encircling steely eyes that seemed to have lost any glimmer of life.
Her transfer to the SS headquarters on the Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse was a blur of grey suits and bright lights. They had shoved her into this cell where she’d been waiting for at least an hour whilst her brain whirred with questions and possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. Horrific fantasies chased each other around her spiralling mind, and she was nearly sick with worry about Friedrich and Ilse, hoping with every fibre of her being that Friedrich’s ostensive loyalties remained uncontested.
But beyond Frau Braun’s testimony, what—and how much—did the SS know? And why in the hell had Gerta Roth been there? There was a rattling sound on the other side of the door and a man entered, tall and thin with a narrow chin that would have been strengthened by a beard.
“Ada Jakob, my name is Graf,” he said. There was a clipboard in his hands. He remained standing, so Audrey was forced to look up at him. “I am here to ask you some questions about your whereabouts on the fifteenth of April.”
She had to at least try to get herself out of this. “There isn’t much to say,” she said, moistening her dry lips. “There’s been some mistake, sir. I was here, in Berlin. At home.”
Graf stared at her. “Can anyone corroborate that? You live with Obersturmbannführer Friedrich Müller, correct?”
Audrey thought fast.
“Yes, I live with him,” she said. “But he doesn’t know much about me. He’s very busy, you see. He’s at the office much of the time.”
Graf watched her. “He was not at home with you on the day in question?”
She couldn’t give a firm yes or no in case Friedrich was asked and offered a different answer. “I don’t know whether he was at home. I was in my bedroom. I didn’t see him.” She wanted desperately to ask whether they’d spoken to him yet.
“Mm,” Graf grunted. “And no one else can confirm your whereabouts?”
Fear flared, but she shook her head. “No. But I—”
“You were positively identified near the scene of the explosion at the Staatsoper Opera House that killed nineteen children, five officers, and two staff,” Graf continued, then summarized Frau Braun’s testimony. “You clearly had knowledge of what was about to transpire.”
Audrey stared at him for several seconds, then let out a long, silent exhale. How astounding, that a single, instinctive moment of benevolence could completely destroy a person.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, as I wasn’t there,” Audrey said, with an effort at dispassion.
