Berlin blood

October was coming to an end. The nights became colder, and Gunther began to freeze under the thin blanket. Although his body was accustomed to such cold, sometimes Gunther still wanted to feel the warmth, which was sorely lacking. Gunther has not heard any specific news about the date of his hearing or what sentence he will be given. There were various rumors, but these rumors were not supported by anything. Albrecht conducted another interrogation, but could not answer Gunther’s quiet questions, pretending that he had not heard them. Gunther also no longer received letters from Ilse, which also depressed his already disgusting state of mind. The snow decided to come earlier this year. One late October day, Gunther was surprised to find a thin white layer on the ground when he looked out the window. He suddenly felt hatred for this white blanket, which would melt in a few hours, because he was sick of the cold. He was fed up with tasteless food and lukewarm drinks. He was tired of being allowed to wash himself in almost cold water once a week. He wanted freedom so much. And do what he wants. Sometimes, Gunther imagined how Ilse met him at the gate, they went to the hotel, where he cleaned himself up, and then they went to a restaurant and ate there to their heart’s content and drank as much as they could fit. Gunther rubbed his hands and put them in his pockets, naively believing that this would make his fingers warmer. “Stupid,” Gunther thought, “this camera requires thick gloves.” Suddenly, loud screams and footsteps were heard, turning into running: — Here, another one is ready. This was not new. Over the past three weeks, since the terrible cold began, Gunther had heard every now and then that someone had died. And every time he woke up in the morning, he was glad that it wasn’t him. The door creaked and Gunther turned around, seeing in front of him a young soldier with handcuffs in his hands. — Come with me, please. — The young man said in a very boyish voice. Gunther was mentally surprised by such politeness and calmly approached the guy, extended his hands and began to wait for the soldier to snap the rings on his wrists. He was taken out into the corridor and taken along the usual route, which meant only one thing: another interrogation. Along the way, Gunther saw a doctor in a clean white coat emerge from another cell, followed by two soldiers carrying a body on a stretcher, covered with a black bag, from under which darkened limbs peeked out. Gunther averted his eyes to the side, thinking that his frostbitten legs looked terrible, and sympathized with the poor fellow who did not wait for the trial. Although, it’s still different from which side to look at which of them was luckier. Perhaps it was Gunther who should sympathize. Richter was brought into a familiar office, and Gunther was even glad that he could spend a few hours in a warmer room. Albrecht was already sitting at the table and reading a piece of paper. Gunther sat down opposite, and Albrecht asked the young fighter to leave them alone. As soon as the door closed behind the soldier, Albrecht looked at Gunther and asked: — How are you doing? Gunther’s eyebrows shot up to incredible heights. “Don’t look at me like that,” Albrecht waved his hand, “today I can talk to you a little differently.” The equipment that was standing here for wiretapping malfunctioned, and it was sent for diagnostics. That’s why I’m conducting the interrogation so early today. Gunther hummed. — As you can see, I’m still alive. But this doesn’t seem to last long. My limbs are freezing every day. — Is it really bad? Gunther nodded. — Okay, I’ll think of something. Gunther did not comment on Albrecht’s last sentence, instead saying: —Are you going to interrogate again? What is it this time? I think I’ve already answered all the questions. Or have new facts come to light that I don’t even know about? Albrecht pursed his lips. “Actually, I just wanted to take an interest in your affairs and ask where Field Marshal Mayer is now?” Unfortunately, he was found neither alive nor dead. Gunther shrugged awkwardly. “I didn’t know about his plans.” We never discussed our personal lives. Albrecht nodded. — Do you know when the trial will take place? — Gunther suddenly asked. Since there is no wiretapping today, we can be a little frank. — Thursday at nine in the morning. — Albrecht answered him. — What day of the week is it today? — Richter had no idea what date or what day of the week. I only knew, thanks to the conversations of the guards, what month it was. — Tuesday. This means he has two more days to enjoy life. “Listen, Albrecht,” Gunther began hesitantly, “I have one request for you.” — Anything. — Albrecht answered decisively. — There is one person in the city. Her name is Ilse Becker. I know she was staying at a local hotel. The girl came for me. — Gunther was a little embarrassed. “I would like her to be present at the trial.” If I am sentenced to death, then I must see her goodbye. “He said this so sadly that Albrecht’s face immediately changed. Gunther didn’t know what his old friend was thinking, but he saw sympathy in his eyes. — It’s too early to draw such conclusions. Siegfried, of course, is still an asshole, but I’m not a fool either. — Siegfried? — Gunther asked. The name seemed very familiar to him. Albrecht nodded. — Yes, Siegfried May. Represents the prosecution. — I think I know him. — Maybe. He commanded a group of scouts until they were captured. The Germans later hanged them all in the forest. — It seems Mayer said something about him. Some kind of slippery guy. It seems that he worked for both the Americans and the Soviet Union, and even supplied information to Hitler through tenth persons. But these are just rumors. And how did he end up here? Albrecht shrugged. — I don’t know myself. He probably asked for it. He doesn’t like Nazis. For him, your courts are like a bone for a hungry dog. Therefore, I have little faith that he is somehow connected with Hitler. “You can’t trust anyone at a time like this.” Everyone is looking for benefits. He may hate us, but no one has canceled the fact that he could earn extra money for disclosing valuable information. Everyone survives as best they can. — I thought about it. But I have no evidence that Siegfried could be a traitor. And besides, you will be judged, and the court will have nothing to do with the prosecution. “We will be talking about criminals, and you will prove that we are not them.” Imagine a real criminal. “Gunther,” Albrecht sighed quietly, “this is all very complicated.” And how will I do this? I don’t know anything about Siegfried! Do you think he’ll let his skeletons come out? — You can at least try. — Gunther objected hotly. — Make some inquiries, I won’t believe that you don’t have good friends. We need to dig underneath it. I think not, I’m even sure that he’s not as clean-cut as he wants to seem now. Are you saying he hates Nazis? I think he’s a hypocrite. — Maybe you’re right, Gunther. Siegfried worked for everyone at the same time and it is unknown what was behind him. Okay, I’ll think about your words. They talked some more about Richter’s work purely as a formality, and then Albrecht released Gunther. *** After lunch, Albrecht looked into the archives. He did not think that he would find anything about Siegfried that would undermine his reputation, but he decided to at least get to know his opponent better. Perhaps some notes or war diaries could give some ideas. Entering the archive, Albrecht began running his finger along the dusty shelves where the personal files of employees stood, looking for the letter “M”. When his eyes came across a familiar surname, Albrecht pulled out a skinny folder, into which only one sheet of personal data was pinned up. “Damn,” Albrecht muttered, “that asshole wasn’t lying.” He really hid all his skeletons safely. After rummaging through the archives and not finding anything else there, Albrecht left the dusty room in upset feelings. There is nothing he can do to help his comrades. The trial will take place on Thursday, and even if he could, through his connections, dig up something on Siegfried, it would take more time than two days. He simply would not have made it in time for the trial. Returning to his office, Albrecht passed by the door of Siegfried’s office, from behind which voices and laughter could be heard, and then stopped. Turned around. He looked at the door for a long time, as if he wanted to hypnotize her. And then an idea sparked in his head. After all, he could have found incriminating evidence on Siegfried in his own office. This was much more likely than looking for information in the archives or outside this building. And Albrecht decided that tonight he would enter the room and try to find something that would expose Siegfried May. By late evening, Albrecht waited for Siegfried to leave work. He watched him from the window of his office, having previously hidden behind the curtains, and when Siegfried finally left the territory, Albrecht went down to the guard post. “Hey, buddy,” Albrecht said, coming closer. Another young soldier named Victor was sitting at the post. — Could you help me with one thing? Victor narrowed his eyes: — What’s the matter? “You see,” Albrecht drawled, “Mr. Siegfried May and I discussed the day after tomorrow’s trial in his office.” As soon as our arguments subsided, we said goodbye, and I went to my room to get my things. While I was getting ready, I discovered one unpleasant thing: I left very important documents on Mr. May’s desk. Could you lend me the key to his office? I’ll just take the documents and close it immediately. Victor tensed. There was doubt on his face. “You cannot enter there without Mr. May’s permission.” And I can’t give you the key to another room. Albrecht shook his head. — I understand all this perfectly. But the future depends on these documents. By the way, your future, buddy. — The young man frowned. “Don’t look at me like that,” the inspector grinned, “I can’t tell you what’s so important in these documents.” Grif secret. But I need them, otherwise everything is lost. But Victor was adamant. And then Albrecht had only one option left. — How many? — Albrecht asked a question. — What — how much? — Victor asked in surprise. “How much do you want to get for giving me the key without Mr. May’s knowledge?” Victor thought about it. His eyes sparkled with interest. “One hundred rubles,” Victor said after a minute of thought. Albrecht’s jaw almost dropped. What a cheek! One hundred rubles is a fortune. And where should this young man put these rubles if he is on German soil? Albrecht, of course, did not elaborate, nor did he bargain with the cost of the service. Since Victor agreed to the bribe, Albrecht, gritting his teeth, will give him the last hundred-ruble bill. Having received the money, with his hands almost shaking with happiness, Victor gave the key to Albrecht and ordered him not to linger long in someone else’s office. Albrecht made it to Siegfried’s office very quickly and also quickly got inside. The office was dark and very hot. Albrecht groped his way to the table and turned on the table lamp, so as not to attract attention from the light from the lamp on the ceiling. There was order on Siegfried’s table, and Albrecht realized that it was impossible to tinker with this order. May has too keen an eye; he would immediately suspect that someone was in his office without his knowledge. Albrecht thought about it. Where could Siegfried keep the documents? The man looked around. There was no safe in the office, which simplified the task. Albrecht looked at the table and decided to start with the top drawers. After looking through the three boxes, Albrecht was displeased to discover that there was nothing worthwhile inside. He almost despaired when he looked inside the last fourth box, when he suddenly noticed that the bottom of the box was a little crooked. Albrecht was very interested in this fact, and he took out a penknife and used it to pry the bottom, which easily gave way. “Double bottom,” muttered Albrecht, removing the tablet, “and you are a cunning bug, Siegfried.” Taking out a stack of some documents, Albrecht sat down on a chair and began to study their contents. As he read these documents, Albrecht’s breath caught, his pulse quickened, and his mouth opened involuntarily. It turned out that Siegfried May was still that scoundrel, liar and traitor. He worked both for his own people and for others. Among the documents, Albrecht found letters addressed to him from Hitler, some photographs proving Siegfried’s involvement in leaking information, money, as well as fake documents in case the Germans did win the war. “What a two-faced bastard,” Albrecht said in amazement into the void. He was under the impression, and now he needed to digest all the information he had just received. Information that could help him exonerate Gunther and the other guys. Albrecht returned everything to its place and left the office, leaving no traces behind him. At the checkpoint, he thanked Victor, giving him the key, and twirled the folder to prove that he was indeed telling the truth. Already on the way home, Albrecht again and again ran through Hitler’s letters, his words and his gratitude to Siegfried for the help provided. He thought about how many traitors his second homeland had seen and thought that such traitors should be executed first.