Dangerous Allies (14 page)

J
ack shut his eyes the moment the warm cloth touched his skin again. He nearly whimpered from the effort of holding back a sigh of relief. Katarina’s touch was so gentle, her eyes filled with such caring that he felt the sharp stab of some foreign emotion rising up inside him.

Sliding a covert glance at her, he found himself struck all over again by her beauty. He closed his eyes to ward off another rush of unexpected emotions, but her scent filled him. She smelled very female, a combination of zesty white flowers and spice.

Perhaps it was safer to keep his eyes opened.

He wondered where the questions were. She must have at least a few. Didn’t women always ask questions? “Don’t you want to know how this happened?”

Her brows scrunched in consternation. “Oh, I have a good idea.”

With unnecessary force, she tossed the bloody rag into the sink, then quickly pressed a clean, dry cloth to the wound. “You messed up, made a mistake or,” she
amended as she smiled at him with a look meant to subdue his male arrogance, “probably both.”

Jack leveled a gaze that had been known to shrink the toughest of men. “You’ll have to work on your gloating, Katarina. It needs a little more hypocrisy in it.”

“Is that so?” Her brows lifted slightly. “Then tell me this, am I wrong?”

He broke eye contact. “You’re enjoying my failure far too much. It’s unbecoming in a woman of your fine breeding, a woman who’s had her own share of mistakes during this mission.”

“Let’s review, shall we?” She pressed the cloth against his wound with a little more efficiency than before. He preferred her more tentative. It hurt less.

Her lips pulled into a frown. “You went somewhere dangerous tonight, alone, without telling me where. And while you were out, doing who knows what, you got yourself shot.” The anger was there in her voice, throbbing just below the surface.

“It’s not my first bullet wound,” he said in his own defense.

“Of course it isn’t. You’re a man, aren’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hold this steady.” She cocked her head at the cloth on his arm.

He did as she requested, flinching when her fingers brushed against his.

Muttering in Russian about foolhardy men who carried guns, she rooted in the cabinet above his head.

He wished she wasn’t quite so angry. It was only going to get worse when he told her what happened. For now,
he decided to change the subject. “You’ll need to work quickly. I have that…meeting I mentioned.”

Without looking at him, she pulled out a brown bottle, scissors, bandages and white medical tape. Hands full, she stepped back and then deposited the lot on the counter.

“Right. You want me to patch you up, just like that, and then send you into a meeting with one of the most dangerous men in Germany. Getting shot is that common for you, is it?”

Although he bristled at her words, something in her expression had him wanting to placate her rather than antagonize. “It’s just a scratch, Katarina. A scratch.”

Her lips pressed into a hard line. “Put there by a bullet meant to take your life.” A shudder passed through her. “Katarina, I—”

“Here comes the fun part.” Looking entirely too cheerful, she swabbed another washcloth with what looked—and smelled—suspiciously like iodine.

“No, you don’t.” Jack shot up then collapsed back down as a jolt of nausea swept through him. After several deep breaths, he cleared the pain out of his mind. But the effort drew a thick sheen of sweat onto his brow. “That stuff stings,” he complained once he had his breath again.

“Of course it does. That’s how you know it’s doing the job.” She smiled, sweetly, then pressed the cloth against his wound.

He bit back a howl of pain. The woman had a mean streak. Pure and simple.

Focus. That’s what he needed. Focus. His mind was stronger than his body. It was all a matter of concentration, a matter of single-mindedness.

She applied a second coat of iodine.

“Have you no compassion?” he hissed.

“Of course. When it’s warranted.”

“You’re doing this to punish me. You’re angry. You’re scared. And this is your way of getting back at me.”

“I’m doing this to clean your wound. Your
bullet
wound. But, yes.” She sighed. “I am angry. Scared, too. Mostly scared.”

Before he could respond she pressed her lips to his forehead. “You’re going to be fine, Friedrich Reiter. Just fine.”

He wanted to relax inside all that tenderness, just for a moment, but he didn’t know how. He’d been on his own too long.

He was only just beginning to realize how alone he’d been.

“Yes, Katarina.” He touched her hand. “I will be fine. I always am.”

Her hands started shaking again. “You could have died tonight.”

“But I didn’t. I won’t—
I can’t
—allow fear of death to keep me from doing what needs to get done.”

Very carefully, very slowly, she set the bottle and rag on the counter. “People who don’t fear death are nothing but reckless. They take foolish risks.”

“Do I strike you as either reckless or foolish?”

Her answer was immediate. “No. But—”

“Worry is useless, Katarina. It’s also a clear sign that
our faith isn’t strong enough. One thing I’ve learned these last two years, no, these last two
days,
is that it’s important to listen to God’s voice and guidance, not our own fear and personal agendas.”

Like his own personal agenda for revenge. Vengeance was not his. It was God’s alone. Jack could no longer in good conscience act without discerning his own motives first. He must be more obedient. He must—

Katarina’s sigh broke through his thoughts. “Faith is hard to come by in times such as these.”

Who was he to argue? “You’re right. Fear, anger and bitterness are always easier. We live in a fallen world. Maybe the question isn’t ‘why do bad things happen,’ rather ‘
who’s
in control when bad things happen.’ God will always be bigger than any circumstance.”

Her brows squeezed together, but she didn’t respond right away. “It’s hard not to ask why.”

He had no argument to that. “I know.”

She let out a shuddering breath. No longer meeting his gaze, she concentrated on wrapping the bandage around his arm and then securing the end with medical tape. “There.” She stepped back and eyed her work. “That should do for now.”

He rose, took her hand in his.

She tried to turn away. He pulled her closer.

“Thank you, Katarina. Thank you for taking care of my arm.” He lifted her chin with his fingertip. “Thank you for taking care of
me.
”

She took a shaky breath, but then visibly relaxed. Reaching up, she touched his cheek. “The next time you
decide to strike out on your own, don’t. Whether you like it or not, you need me.”

A strange calm settled over him. “You’re right. I do need you.” He wasn’t talking solely about the mission.

She, apparently, thought he was. “Where did you go tonight?”

Knowing he owed her the truth, he sat back down. “I went to a shipyard in Kiel. To investigate a U-boat, what I believe is the lead submarine in the magnetic mines mission. I was interrupted before I could finish the job, hence the need for a bandage.”

“But.” She angled her head at him. “How did you know the U-boat was there and that it was the right one?”

He worked to keep from clenching his jaw. “Himmler told me.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t speak.

“I work…as one of his handpicked agents.”

Her hand flew to her throat. “Oh.”

He understood her shock. “Rest assured, my loyalties lie with the British. But I also have certain responsibilities to Himmler and his SS.”

He expected her to pale at his admission, to show disgust and disbelief, perhaps even terror. But she surprised him. “What a terrible, lonely way to live.” Her voice filled with tenderness. “You never know who to trust, do you?”

“I trust you. And I trust God.” He spoke the truth from his heart.

Lord, forgive me for relying only on myself. Help me to rely on You more.

With a look of understanding in her eyes, she reached down and touched his face. “Oh, Friedrich.”

He stood. Just as he pulled her close she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest.

“You are… I don’t know how… I wish…” Her words trailed off on a shuddering sigh.

He thought he understood her inability to put her feelings into words. She’d given him the one weapon that could destroy her—information about her heritage—while he’d given her nothing. Not really. Both the British and the Germans knew he worked with the opposing government. He was a traitor one day, a hero the next. It all depended on what day it was and who was sitting on the other side of the desk.

For once, he wanted to share his truth with someone who would look past the spy.

“My name is Jonathon Phillip Anderson,” he said in German, but then switched to English to make his point. “I go by Jack, not Jonathon. I’m an American naval engineer on loan to the British from the Office of Naval Intelligence, ONI. I was born in Lincoln, Nebraska, but grew up in Washington, D.C.”

With that last bit of information, he’d given her an equally powerful weapon to use against him.

She lifted her head. The awe and respect he saw in her nearly slaughtered him. He wasn’t worthy of this courageous woman’s loyalty. But he wanted to be.

“That’s it, then.” She nodded in acknowledgment. “No turning back for either of us. We’re in this together, bound by our individual secrets.”

“Yes.” He thought of the verse from Ecclesiastes. “‘Two are better than one,’” he quoted.

She took a deep breath and finished the rest of the verse. “And if one falls the other will pick him—or her—up.”

“Precisely.” He pulled her close again. He wanted to stay right where he was, holding her tightly to him. Something powerful had just happened between them, a fragile bond that needed nurturing. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the liberty to explore their newfound connection. Not tonight.

“I have to meet Himmler in little more than an hour.”

“Will he…” She looked up at him. “Are you in danger because you failed tonight?”

He wouldn’t lie to her, not now. “I don’t know. I have enough information to share that should satisfy him. But no matter what, the SS will not find out about you or your secret. Not from me.”

“I know.” She lifted her chin. “I trust you completely.”

He knew how hard that came for her. In the face of her courage he fell a little in love with her. Maybe more than a little. “Will you do something with me, before I go?”

“Anything.”

“I want us to pray, together.”

“I… Yes.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “I…I think I would like that, too.”

He took her hands in his and then knelt on the tile floor at her feet.

After a moment of hesitation, she joined him on the floor.

His arm might still be throbbing. His head might still feel light. Yet with Katarina’s hands in his, both of them kneeling before God in total surrender, Jack felt stronger than he had in years.

He closed his eyes.

“Lord, Heavenly Father, we know You are not the author of destruction, but of peace. I pray You guide us in our quest to stop tyranny, tonight and every night to come. Whether we’re together or apart.” He paused a moment, then recalled a long-forgotten verse from Zechariah. “We will not succeed in our own strength, but by Your spirit alone. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”

“Amen.” Katarina’s hands tightened around his.

And with that simple gesture from her, the night turned a whole lot brighter.

21 November 1939, Abwehr headquarters annex,
North Hamburg, 2300 hours

A
lthough it was seconds before 2300 hours, Jack didn’t rush his steps. He strode purposely up the front walkway of the rambling three-story mansion. It was an imposing structure, nestled on a knuckle of land perched along craggy cliffs.

The house had been confiscated—most likely from a Jewish family—and turned into the heart of Germany’s wireless receiving operation. But this was an
Abwehr
facility, used solely by the military intelligence agency. There was no direct connection to the SS here.

Why had Himmler moved their meeting to this house, of all places, instead of keeping it at the Gestapo head quarters as originally planned?

With the question weighing heavily on his mind, Jack entered the building at precisely 2300 hours. An SS cor
poral rose from a chair situated in the shadows of the main hall and saluted. “
Heil
Hitler.”

“
Heil
Hitler.”

“The
Reichsführer
is waiting for you, Herr
Sturmbannführer.
Please follow me.” With a click of his heels, the corporal turned sharply around and led the way down a long corridor.

Jack followed the man along the darkened hallway, through another corridor and then another. As he memorized the route with one part of his brain, he wondered again why Himmler had brought him here of all places.

Was it a test? An intimidation tactic? A reminder that he was being watched closely?

I will never leave you, nor forsake you.

Jack tucked God’s promise into his heart, gathering courage from it as he did. Worry was useless. Himmler would reveal his hand when it suited him. And not before.

In the meantime, Jack would do everything in his power to protect Katarina. No harm would come to her because of him. The most effective tool in his arsenal was the coldhearted shell of Friedrich Reiter.

After yet another turn down another twisting corridor, the corporal ushered Jack into a small room furnished with only a dilapidated desk and two wooden chairs. The air smelled sour, heavy, like a moldy bunker.

Another tactic, designed to throw a man off his guard. Friedrich Reiter was not so easily manipulated.

“Herr Himmler will be with you shortly,” the corporal said, then retreated.

Once he was alone, Jack remained standing, shoulders back, head high. He lifted his left arm slightly but did not wince at the resulting pain the small gesture caused. Katarina had cleaned the wound and dressed it properly. But he needed rest in order for his body to complete the healing process.

He would take the time after the war.

Turning at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges, he presented a stiff-armed salute as Himmler entered the room. “Herr
Reichsführer
,” he said. “
Heil
Hitler.”

“
Heil
Hitler.”

Jack remained at attention, and waited.

Himmler’s restless gaze took in the room, then shifted to Jack’s face. “Have a seat, Herr Reiter.”

As Jack settled into the less appealing of the two chairs, he noted that Himmler was wearing the black uniform of the Gestapo, the Death’s Head prominently displayed above the bill of his cap. The uniform sent a bloody warning. And Jack knew it was no empty threat. Himmler was capable of terrible evil.

I will never leave you, nor forsake you.
He relaxed in the reminder of God’s truth, and then set aside Jack Anderson for the remainder of the meeting.

“You surprise me, Herr Reiter.” Himmler’s eyes turned colder, and his voice iced over. “I expected you much later.”

“This was our agreed time.”

“So it was.” He made a grand show of taking off his hat and settling into the other chair. “I understand you
took your actress home early this evening, before you had to travel to Kiel.”

The statement was meant to let Jack know that Himmler had been monitoring him, personally, along with the Gestapo and various other Nazi agencies.

Friedrich Reiter was a popular man.

“I wanted no distractions from my duties to the Fatherland. I will join her once I leave here. We prefer our privacy, you understand.” He punctuated his statement with Reiter’s sly smile. It was important Himmler got all the wrong ideas, with one exception. The head of the SS needed to know that Jack was fully aware of the listening devices planted in his hotel room.

“So you are continuing your relationship with the woman.”

Jack lifted a careless shoulder. “She has her uses. Aside from the obvious, Admiral Doenitz will be attending her mother’s ball tomorrow evening. It’s long past time I met the admiral in person.”

“You always go beyond the call of duty, Herr Reiter,” Himmler said with satisfaction in his tone. “Now, for our other matter. You have news for me?”

Pleased Himmler had changed the direction of the conversation on his own, Jack nodded. Although a certain amount of sharing information was expected, he needed to handle the question of the magnetic mines carefully.

With the cold directness that was Reiter’s trademark, Jack leaned forward and lowered his voice. “It is delicate information, Herr
Reichsführer.
”

Himmler waved his hand. “It is safe to speak freely here. You may proceed without concern.”

“As you wish.”

Jack sat back, seemingly relaxed, but he chose to stick to the cautious approach as was in character with his alter ego. He’d failed to investigate U-116 properly, but the head of the SS didn’t need to know that. The altercation with the guard was of little importance, as well. Heinrich Himmler cared only about the results of a mission as they pertained to him. He cared nothing of Reiter’s methods in retrieving the information.

“The weapon we discussed earlier is a magnetic mine designed especially for submarine use.” Jack delivered the information without a single qualm, knowing he’d revealed enough to pit Himmler against Doenitz even more than before. “Its explosive charge carries twice the firepower of traditional torpedoes.”

Himmler’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Did you say
magnetic
mine?”

“Yes. The U-boats lay a succession of these mines on the bottom of the shallow seabed, mainly near ports and military bases along the British coast. The bombs target ships as they pass by.”

Digesting the information, Himmler nodded. “Go on.”

“The mines are not discriminating,” Jack continued. “Military or merchant, British or American, the target is the closest ship in range.”

Himmler’s lips thinned. “Then what keeps the mines from blowing up the U-boat once they are released?”

Jack didn’t know, hence the problem with designing
his countermeasures for the British. But he had a theory, one he could use to keep Himmler satisfied without jeopardizing Britain’s attempts to stop the destruction. “There is a delayed-action trigger, a time fuse of sorts, which does not activate until the U-boat has cleared the area.”

Jack stopped his explanation there, counting on Himmler’s mind-set as a former chicken farmer to neither understand the complicated science of the bombs, nor wish to try. How the trigger worked was still the unknown factor. And after tonight’s failure, Jack was no closer to finding out. He still might have to return to Wilhelmshaven, and Admiral Doenitz’s private quarters.

He would do so without Katarina.

Clearly unaware of Jack’s thoughts, Himmler drummed his fingers on his thigh. “From what you’ve told me, it is obvious Doenitz wishes to use the mines to further increase public sentiment for his U-boats. A noble end, to be sure, but the secrecy must end.”

Jack bit back a sigh of relief. Himmler was satisfied, even though Jack had given him very little information. In fact, Admiral Doenitz should have shared all of this with the SS long before now.

Internal rivalry within the German state wasn’t Jack’s concern. Himmler would deal with the admiral’s secret-keeping himself. Let the dogs battle one another for a while, that was Jack’s philosophy.

Himmler shifted, his blue eyes almost colorless now, nothing more than a slit of drab gray against the black pupils. “You have given me plenty to work with. The Führer will be pleased.”

Jack nodded, then answered with his well-rehearsed line. “It is my honor to be of service to my Führer, and the Fatherland.”

“Very good. Now.” Rising, Himmler crossed to a small window, and stared out into the black night for several long seconds.

“I have another opportunity for you,” he said, spinning back to face Jack. “It would enable you to return to the Fatherland, perhaps permanently. And it would take advantage of the skills you’ve acquired in the last two years.”

Jack sat perfectly still, waiting, swallowing back a mixture of trepidation and excitement. This was it, then. All roads had led to this moment. He had pushed to get himself here, to the one assignment that would take him deep inside the SS.

“I only wish to serve,” he said. But not the Fatherland.

In that moment, Jack put his hope in God and surrendered completely to the Lord’s will for his life. He would no longer seek revenge for his own purpose. He would have confidence in the Lord’s ability to use him as an instrument to defeat the Nazis’ evil.

“What I have in mind would utilize your unique skills,” Himmler said again. “That is, if you are interested.”

Jack leaned forward. By nature, he was a patient man, but he could feel his heart pounding with anticipation. Or was it fear? He wanted to hear what Himmler had in mind, wanted to see if all the sacrifices of the last two years were about to pay off.

Even if the outcome meant Jack would have to lay
down his own life, the price would be worth it if he could save innocent blood. This was no longer about Jack. It was about courageous people like Katarina Kerensky. It was about a higher plan and service to God.

“I’m interested,” he said.

“As you know, I do not trust Admiral Canaris any more than I trust Admiral Doenitz.”

Keeping his expression blank, Jack nodded. The lack of trust between Himmler and the head of the
Abwehr
was no secret. The fact that they were having this conversation in an
Abwehr
facility revealed Himmler’s serpentine mind and deadly arrogance. The choice of meeting places made perfect sense now. The mouse was actually plotting against the cat inside the cat’s own den.

“What is it you want me to do?” Jack asked, certain he’d come to the most important moment of his thirty-two years.

Every small, seemingly inconsequential life decision had prepared him to take on this task. He’d memorized countless Scriptures as a boy, which would now become his primary source of God’s Word while ensconced in the heart of the Nazi regime. He’d trained as an engineer and joined the Navy at precisely the right time to warrant the German’s interest in him.

Perhaps even losing his way for a time had brought him to a deeper conviction to serve the Lord.

“We will put you in a position within the
Abwehr
itself. You will report back to me any suspicious dealings between Canaris and his closest agents.” The smile he sent Jack was as hard and cold as an artic blast.

“Admiral Canaris will allow this?”

Himmler released a vicious chuckle. “He has no choice.” That arrogant statement proved the unconscionable power Himmler had acquired within the Third Reich. Even men of equal standing now had to fear the head of the SS.

Proceed carefully, Jack. You are dealing with a madman.

“What of my work inside England?” he asked. It was a reasonable question. An expected one. “I’ve built a solid cover over the last two years.”

“At all costs, you will not jeopardize your situation with the Americans, or MI6. I may need you to return to one or both countries in the future.”

A ball of dread rolled ice-hot in his belly. Could Jack do this? No, he couldn’t. Not on his own. But he could with God’s strength.
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

“I understand, Herr
Reichsführer.
I will not let you down.”

“Tie up any loose ends as quickly as possible. I want you in Berlin within the month.”

Within the month.
Jack had thirty days to get Katarina and her mother out of Germany.

And then he would be completely entrenched inside the identity of Friedrich Reiter. For a moment, all his guilt and rage rose to the surface.

Jack shoved the emotions back down with a hard swallow. He was a changed man, thanks to meeting Katarina. Her courage had inspired him to return to the God-fearing man he’d been before Reiter had attacked him.

This world was filled with wickedness, but Jack would no longer allow his anger over what the Nazis had done to him to block his confidence in God’s ability to defeat evil. He would call on God alone for his strength now.

After two long years of preparation, he would have his chance to become an instrument for good. In thirty days he would infiltrate the internal security service of the SS—the
Sicherheitsdienst,
or SD.

This was it. The moment he’d planned for since Friedrich Reiter had come to take his life. Jack was ready.