Dangerous Allies (15 page)

22 November 1939, Sengwarden, Wilhelmshaven
Kriegsmarine headquarters, 0700 hours

A
dmiral Doenitz spread the set of blueprints across the top of his desk, for the moment ignoring the U-boat captain standing at attention beside him. He took his time studying the drawings. The revolutionary mines were the most powerful naval weapons ever designed. But the bombs would only be effective if they remained secret.

Satisfied he was making the right decision, he turned his attention to the man on his left.

Hermann Schmidt stood unmoving, chest out, shoulders back, his gaze focused on the far wall. Since serving with Schmidt in the last war, Doenitz had trusted his fellow officer completely. Even at fifty, the man’s cold blue eyes, chiseled features and close-cropped blond hair defined Aryan perfection. But it was his unwavering
loyalty to the Fatherland that made him an asset to the
Kriegsmarine.

“These are no longer safe in my office.” Doenitz stabbed at the blueprints with his index finger. “Although we don’t know exactly what the intruder was after, I am not willing to take any chances.”

Schmidt lowered his gaze and considered the drawings in silence. His expression remained neutral throughout his inspection. “Is this the only set of blueprints?”

“No. The engineers who developed the bombs have the originals. For the sake of secrecy, however, only a handful of people have been allowed access to either set.”

“Very wise.”

“Yes.” With silent purpose, Doenitz rolled up the pages, inserted the blueprints into a metal tube and then handed the container to Schmidt. “It is now up to you to keep these safe.”

Tucking the cylinder under his left arm, Schmidt nodded. “I will guard them with my life.”

“I have no doubt.” Satisfied the first part of the meeting was going as planned, Doenitz strode to the map covering the entire south wall of his office. “Germany is at her finest hour,
Kapitän zur See
. It is time the rest of the world experiences the magnificence of our capabilities.”

Schmidt smiled with what looked like quiet relish. “Agreed.”

“As commander of U-116, you are now among the elite of the
Kriegsmarine.
” Dragging his finger along the route Schmidt would take through the English Channel,
Doenitz continued, “You are solely responsible for the success of this secret mission.”

“I am humbled by the magnitude of your trust, Herr Admiral.”

A perfect answer.

Hands clasped behind his back, Doenitz walked to the row of windows on the north wall overlooking the harbor. Freezing rain scratched a steady rhythm against the glass. The chilling cold slicked ice into twisting patterns, making visibility all but impossible at this early hour. “I cannot stress the importance of keeping the blueprints from falling into the wrong hands.”

“I understand.”

Returning to the map, Doenitz eyed the coastline bordering the English Channel. Cold fingers of purpose clutched around his heart. “We must wage total war on the enemy.”

Schmidt merely inclined his head, waiting patiently for Doenitz to continue. This was the advantage of working with seasoned sailors, men who had experienced the humiliation of defeat. Their devotion to the Third Reich was a given.

“As with your other missions, do not pick up any survivors along the way.”

Schmidt gave a quick nod. “I will strive only to take care of my own boat and crew.”

“That is all I expect.” Hard determination edged his voice up an octave. “Any events during your patrol which are in direct violation of the international agreement should not be entered in your war log.”

Schmidt’s blue eyes turned cold and impassive. “I will report those to you personally.”

“Very good. Now, what is U-116’s status?”

“Everything is on schedule. She will be outfitted and ready to sail on the twenty-fourth as planned.”

Doenitz clasped the other man’s shoulder in a brief show of confidence. “I realize laying mines is not a popular task, my friend. Since the weapon does not cause immediate damage to the enemy, you and your crew may never see the fruits of your labor.”

Schmidt threw his shoulders back, exuding an unshakable iron bearing. “I only wish to do my part for Germany, Herr Admiral.”

Satisfied at last, Doenitz returned to the cabinet that held the rest of his important blueprints and documents. Before shifting them to their new locations, there was one final matter to discuss with Schmidt.

“Your character and your temperament make you a valuable officer, Hermann,” he began carefully. “I am honored to have you among my most trusted men.”

“It is an honor to serve under you, sir.”

“I understand the sacrifice I am asking of you. But you must dedicate yourself completely to the Fatherland.”

Schmidt nodded in understanding. “My personal life will not interfere with my duties.”

Ah, the perfect opening. “I trust Elena Kerensky will not be a distraction.”

“No, sir.” Schmidt looked at him directly, his eyes unblinking. “She understands my duty is to Germany first.”

“Good. Good.” Deciding to keep his suspicions about
the daughter to himself, at least until he had further evidence to support his theory, Doenitz went fishing instead. “What about her famous daughter? What do you know of her?”

Schmidt’s lip curled in disgust. “She is a silly, spoiled girl with very little on her mind.”

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Doenitz had his doubts.

“Yet she is at the height of her profession,” he pointed out. Reason enough to take her seriously.

“Her beauty has gotten her far,” Schmidt conceded. “But like most women of her type, she is easy prey for unscrupulous men. SS men, especially.” His ruthless tone said how he felt about the company Katarina Kerensky kept. “She is not overly discreet.”

“Is there an SS man in particular that’s been sniffing around the actress lately?” Doenitz asked. One who had made the journey to Wilhelmshaven with her recently?

Schmidt’s lip curled. “This week or last?”

So Katarina Kerensky ran through men, not unusual considering her profession. “You say she’s silly and likes dangerous men, is that all you know about her?” Doenitz asked.

“That’s all there is to know. Either she is exactly as she seems or she is a brilliant actress.” Schmidt released a snort. “You may decide for yourself, of course, when you meet her tonight. But in my opinion, no one is that good at pretending.”

Doenitz would indeed judge for himself. In the meantime, he had other documents to move. “Thank you,
Kapitän.
That is all for now.”

Schmidt tossed out his own arm in salute. “
Heil
Hitler.”

Doenitz returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm. “
Heil
Hitler.”

As Schmidt left the room at a stiff, clipped pace, Doenitz allowed a slow, cold smile to touch his lips. After tonight he would have his answers about the famous actress. He would find out who she worked for and then he would uncover her reasons for breaking into his private chambers, assuming she was indeed the culprit.

Ah, yes. The trip to Hamburg this evening, the one he’d dreaded a week ago, could very well prove to be an enlightening experience after all.

Rissen, West Hamburg, 0800 hours

In sharp contrast to Katia’s mood, the day dawned crisp and bright. She would have much preferred a dark and rainy morning for answering her mother’s summons.

A reasonable person would be snuggled in her bed at this hour, or at the very least checking on her wounded partner. Unfortunately, family obligation had been bred into Katia from birth. And as much as she wanted to worry over Friedrich Reiter’s meeting with Heinrich Himmler, or wonder how the British spy’s wound was healing, she found herself putting off her trip to the
Vier Jahreszeiten
hotel and stepping into the quiet, tasteful foyer of her mother’s home instead.

Looking around her, Katia sighed. The decor was as
stylishly equipped as its owner. Lovely and aloof, the pearl-gray marble floor, cream-colored walls and stern-looking antique table suited Princess Elena Dietrich Patrova Kerensky to perfection.

Katia’s mother had been given the villa on the Elbe River two years ago, shortly after she’d become a favorite of Adolf Hitler. More showcase than home, the house had everything a Russian princess in exile could want, even if that princess was of German descent with a secret Jewish grandparent in her lineage.

Katia’s skin iced over as she stepped farther into the house. Although she had no proof, she imagined this sprawling home had once belonged to a Jewish family taken by the Nazis.

The thought made her sick, made her seem more like an intruder than usual.

How could her mother live with herself? Where was her conscience? Her disgust? Her shame?

Elena’s solid position in German society had given her back the life that had been ripped from her during the dark days of the Revolution. She lived in a fairy-tale world again, one similar to that of the Tsars.

Was Elena Kerensky that shallow? Did she not understand the cost others had paid for the opulence she enjoyed now? The same cost she herself would pay if Hermann Schmidt discovered her secret? She had once claimed to be a devout Christian. Her actions said otherwise. Had Elena joined the new German religion, the
Gottglaubig?
Had she become one of the blind millions who worshipped the romantic notions of a pagan past?

Lord, if that’s true, what am I to do? How am I to proceed?

Katia’s breath turned cold in her body. A scream clawed at the inside of her throat, but she kept her expression bland as she made her way to the front parlor. She could not help but think that her heels clicking against the marble sounded like nails to coffins.

Strict control prevented Katia from reaching up and smoothing the wind-tangled hair off her face. She was an adult now, not some naughty child who deserved scolding. Shoulders back, chin high, she took note of the countless flowers that spilled out of pots and vases on every available tabletop. The colorful blooms presented an impression that the war had not yet touched this part of the world.

How long would Elena Kerensky lie to herself?

Rounding the corner, Katia noted a fire had been laid in the parlor, but was not yet lit. The illusion of warmth came from several lamps shooting beacons of golden light throughout the pristine room. No doubt, the soft ambience was designed to create a soothing, welcoming atmosphere.

Katia had never felt so alone, so empty. So terrified. She didn’t think she could continue playing the role of the dutiful daughter much longer. The lie was taking its toll.

Lord, I…I…I pray for courage.
As prayers went it was a pitiful attempt. Well, she was feeling rather pitiful at the moment, especially as she watched her perfect, serene mother rise from her chair.

Elena stretched out her hand to beckon Katia forward.
Dressed in a soft tan dress with brown trim, her hair in its trademark upsweep, Elena looked as elegant as always.

“Darling,” she greeted. “You are right on time.” Her tone was pleasant enough, but her eyes remained distant, guarded even, as they had been the day before.

“I am always on time, Mother.”

“So you are.”

Katia didn’t like how Elena watched her, with her pale eyes looking as though she could see straight inside her mind. Katia had to swallow back a wave of nervousness. Why did she always feel inadequate in the presence of the woman who had given birth to her?

Shaken more than she thought possible, Katia ignored the familiar clutching of her stomach and moved forward to kiss her mother’s cheek. “You look well.”

“I am well, quite well. And how are you, my dear?”

“The same as always.” Petrified. If Elena Kerensky could ignore what was happening around her, then so could every other decent citizen of the Volk.

“Come, Katia, sit. Have some tea.” There was no warmth in the invitation.

Unsure what to make of her mother’s mood, Katia did as commanded. “As I said on the telephone, I cannot stay long.”

“Nonsense.” Elena waved off the objection. “Your first obligation is to your family.”

Katia gave in, hoping to end this command performance more quickly with compliance. She sat down in a stiff-back chair, but she couldn’t stop her hand from fluttering absently over her hair.

Elena’s gaze followed the gesture. Pursing her lips in disapproval, she poured tea into a china cup. “You look tired, darling.”

Katia curled her toes inside her shoes and clamped her hands together in her lap. “I’ve had several long nights at the theater.”

Elena treated Katia to one of her long silences. Only then did she remember the theater had been dark last night and she’d begged off dinner with complaints of a headache. Would Elena point out the obvious inconsistency in Katia’s excuse?

This is what comes of living a life of lies.

Katia held perfectly still and waited. A part of her noticed the servants bustling in and out of the room, making preparations for the party later that evening. The other part of her held her breath in trepidation.

“Yes, darling, I’m sure that must be the reason.” Elena placed a cup on a saucer and handed both to Katia. “I don’t know why you bother with that ridiculous endeavor. You should be focusing on marriage. You aren’t getting any younger.”

“I am only twenty-six.”

“Long past the age I was when I married your father.” A sadness crept into Elena’s eyes, but she quickly wiped away the emotion with a determined blink.

Katia fought her own wave of melancholy. She’d thought of her father more in the last two days than she had in the last eighteen years.

“Who would I marry, Mother? Someone like Hermann?” She kept her voice cool and distant, afraid if she allowed her emotions to surface there would be no way
to stop them from overflowing into a tangle of words that she could never take back.

Elena’s gaze narrowed, but there was no real hardness in her eyes, only a look that Katia couldn’t quite decipher. Concern maybe? “You cannot deny that my marrying Hermann will have its advantages,” she said at last.