D-Notice Bill Walker (online e book reading txt) 📖

He handed it to Michael, who cradled it in his hands as if it were a ticking bomb.

Shaking, he tore open the still-sealed envelope and extracted an equally yellowed sheet of foolscap paper. His heart sank.

“It’s in Russian,” he said.

Erika held out her hand. “Let me see it.”

He handed her the paper, and watched as she read through it, her lips moving slightly as they formed the Russian words. She halted, her head snapping up from the page. “Mein Gott, if this is authentic—”

“I assure you, it is, Fräulein,” Jarmann said, indignant.

“What does it say?” Michael asked, anxious.

Jarmann took the paper from Erika and gave it a quick glance, then handed it back to Michael. “It is an order to Marshall Ivan Tinenko, commander of Russian forces in Finland in 1941. It was found on his body after a particularly vicious firefight with Friedrich’s battalion. It is the express order to liquidate the Royal South Wessex Regiment—with prejudice.... For some reason, the Marshall disobeyed orders by not destroying the letter immediately. Perhaps it was the novelty of having his name on an order signed by Stalin himself.”

Michael’s disappointment grew. “So what? Everyone knows that Stalin was as much a monster as Hitler. Russia’s repudiated the man, and everything he stood for. Why should any of this matter, now?”

Jarmann smiled as a teacher would to a dull child. “Indeed, young man, why should any of this matter, now? It wouldn’t, except for one not-so-insignificant detail.... England and Russia had just become allies. Before Stalin gave the order.”

The room seemed to tilt as Michael reached for the desk to steady himself. “Dear God....” he said.

“You see,” Jarmann continued, “alliances were very fluid at that time. The English were secretly helping the Finns fight the Russians, who until June 22, 1941, were allied with Germany. Stalin wiped out the regiment as a warning, as a way to ensure that England would never join with Germany to defeat Russia, as British Fascists and Hitler desired.” Jarmann slammed his empty coffee mug onto the credenza. “That Georgian lout even had the nerve to inform Churchill of the massacre via a secret communiqué.”

“And we did nothing?” Michael asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Churchill’s hands were tied. To expose Stalin for what he was risked splitting the alliance and perhaps ultimately losing the war for the Allies. It was far too great a risk to take for men who were already dead.”

“If they already knew, then why send my father at all?”

The old man’s expression softened. “The proof, my boy, they wanted the proof the Rainer uncovered...so they could bury it.”

Michael stumbled over to the window and stared out into the tiny park the building overlooked. Benches surrounded a tiny fountain, and one lone statue of some forgotten academic stood facing it, covered with pigeon droppings.

They’d sacrificed his father, tossed him to the bloody wolves—for nothing! They’d sent him on a mission when they already knew what had happened, and why. All they’d wanted was an errand boy—an expendable one....

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stem the flood of hatred that washed over him. All the venom he’d felt over the years, blind anger against faceless unknown men, now finding its true home with those who now professed to have their country’s best interests at heart. They weren’t as bad as the monsters who’d pulled the triggers in that distant forest. They were worse.

I won’t let them get away with it, Father. I promise!

“Will you let us take it?” Erika asked.

Jarmann stared at her with a look that was a curious mixture of suspicion and amusement, then handed Erika the paper.

“I would be very careful with that, my dear. Far too many have died for it already.”

Erika nodded and turned to Michael. “Michael? What is it?”

He turned from the window. “Our friends have found us.”

Erika and Jarmann rushed to the window and followed Michael’s gaze. Down in the park, seated on one of the benches, was a large bullet-headed man staring brazenly up at them, a smile on his face.

Erika grabbed Michael’s shoulder. “We must go.”

She headed for the door, the two men following.

“There is a fire exit down the hall,” Jarmann said. “It will take you to the other side of the building.”

Erika started down the hall and Michael hung back a moment, his eyes meeting Jarmann’s. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Jarmann nodded, saddened. “Yes. As far as I know...Friedrich Rainer never had a daughter.”

Michael didn’t say anything, couldn’t even think of how to respond to that. Was the old man crazy, after all?

“Michael!” she called. “Come on!”

He turned to go and Jarmann grabbed his arm, his grip like a vise. “Good luck, young man.”

He nodded, and the old man released him. Out in the hall, he spotted Erika at the end of the corridor holding open a door marked: Notfall-Ausgang—Emergency Exit. He ran to meet her, blood pounding in his ears and a brackish coppery taste in the back of his throat.

They took the stairs two at a time, clattering down the concrete steps without concern for noise or decorum. He prayed the door leading out to the campus wasn’t alarmed. If it was, they stood the chance of alerting the hulking presence waiting for them on the park bench.

There was no alarm, just a push-bar and a sign in German about fire drills. They blew through it right into the muzzle of a silenced Makarov pistol.

“Good afternoon, Fräulein.” Karl said, his acne-pitted face splitting into a knowing leer. “Nice day for a jog, Ja?”

Erika glared at him, contempt oozing from every pore. Michael’s eyes darted from the gun to Erika and then to their immediate surroundings.