33. Emilie

THIRTY-THREE

Dachau, Germany

A thin layer of dust covers the half-filled bookcase in Otto’s office. It’s obvious I haven’t gotten around to tidying up in here in a long time, but there’s been no time. Until now.

Otto and I have been working for Dietrich as if gagged. Yet, the cards are all out on the table after last night’s discussion between Herr Berger and his brother, Dietrich. I’m left wondering if Dietrich would throw his own brother to the wolves, bury him alive, or do whatever is necessary to be seen as a hero in the eyes of Hitler’s men. It’s impossible to know how much danger we might all be in now, and yet, all I can think about is the fact that I may have lost access to Danner and all the other innocent prisoners who I want nothing more than to help somehow.

I’ve been sitting at Otto’s desk, drawing circular patterns on a piece of notepaper while my mind follows the maze of pen strokes, wondering what is being discussed in the Berger family meeting early this morning. It’s nine and I would have expected to have heard something by now, but I’m not sure if silence is a good or bad sign.

An unfamiliar squeal of brakes abruptly stops outside of the draped window behind me. It’s not Otto’s car. I twist his desk chair around and peek out, unable to see the car because of the shrubbery blocking my view.

A knock on the front door shouldn’t startle me into jumping out of the seat, but it does because I don’t know who would be visiting at this early hour of the day. I tiptoe over to the front door, staying out of sight from the side windows so I can steal a glimpse of who is at the door before having to confess anyone is home. I spot the pinched look on Dietrich’s face and pull away, concealing myself directly behind the door while I debate whether to open it.

He’s the last person I want to see or speak to, but he’s supposed to be with Otto and Herr Berger. Something must have happened to them.

Something could happen to me if I open the door.

I might lose my last chance of helping Danner if I ignore Dietrich.

Nothing good will arise from either option. A man of power gets what he wants.

I open the door enough to see his face, enough to exchange words. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” he mouths the echoed words. “Emilie, good morning,” he says. “I’m wondering if I might have a word with you.”

“For what reason?” I ask, expressionless. The less he knows about what I’m thinking, the better off I’ll be.

“What reason…” he whispers. “A proposition of sorts.” I thought that’s what he was alluding to last night, bluntly asking me to continue aiding him with whatever experiment might come next. Rather than reply with a hard no like Herr Berger did last night, I remain silent, waiting for him to continue. “I have received a request to prepare a written memorandum for the air-force troops, outlining our findings and direction on how to utilize such measures to protect themselves during extreme cold conditions.”

I’ve already given him every bit of research and data I documented during the trials so he could compile a report. “You have all the information needed to create a memorandum,” I reply.

“Information needed,” he mumbles. “Yes, I do, but I’m not sure I’m able to convey the information in a proper outline structure as eloquently as you did with your notes.” He must have copied my notes to use in his letter if he’s suggesting he doesn’t have the ability to write in a way that speaks of his so-called expertise.

A chill from the wind blows against us in the doorway and though I would typically invite someone in for a cup of tea, I won’t allow him to come one step further.

“As my father-in-law mentioned last night?—”

“As my father-in-law…” he repeats, hissing the words. “Emilie, I’m going to cut to the chase here. I heard all topics of conversation last night and am aware of the extra efforts made to save one particular volunteer. It has become clear that you have a personal connection with this man, and therefore might be more willing to sacrifice your time to help me if it were to mean keeping him alive.”

“How so?” I ask, trying not to cry at the thought of this threat—another threat.

“How so? The other volunteers won’t be returning to their barracks. In fact, they’re already dead. They knew too much, saw too much. They are of no use to us now. The only one spared is Prisoner 13415. His survival will depend on you and your decision to help me.”

My stomach burns as acidic bile rises into my chest. I should have been more cautious but that would mean giving up on him when he’s on the verge of death. I grit my teeth to avoid showing a reaction but I’m sure he sees the tension in my jaw.

“I—” I know what my answer has to be.

“Your husband knows this volunteer prisoner too, doesn’t he?” I swallow against the growing lump in my throat. “Of course he does. You all lived on the same street as children.”

“Why are you asking if you already know?” I should be more careful with my words but with my life teetering on top of a mountain peak, I’m not sure anything I say will end in my favor.

“Why? Because your husband and my brother have refused to continue aiding me in my efforts—efforts my life depends on as I still answer to the Reichsführer. I’m afraid if I have no one to assist me with this data, we might all be at risk for an end none of us wants to see.”

“Otto won’t be assisting you anymore?” I ask, baffled by this revelation.

“Won’t be assisting…” he echoes. “Correct. Apparently, my brother has already secured a position for Otto at a nearby field hospital outside of the camp.”

“So, you’re here because you think you can convince me when you couldn’t convince Otto or Herr Berger?” I question him.

He pauses, mouthing my words back to me. “Yes, in fact, I’m quite sure I can convince you.”

“No, not a chance.”

Dietrich tilts his head to the side and furrows his brows. “Even if it meant saving that lone standing volunteer from death? Of course, I don’t have say in much but there are certain areas I have control.” Dietrich straightens his wool scarf and shrugs his coat into a flat line against his shoulders. “As a married man, I know there are secrets we keep from those we love, to protect them. Just as Otto has done for you. In return you’ll do the same. No one will have to know my team has split apart, you’ll stay in your beautiful house, and your friend will be spared.”

“I’m not sure,” I say, the words coming out on their own. “Otto will ask you why we haven’t been kicked out of the house.”

“Otto will ask… My agreement with Otto and my brother is that their names remain on my team roster, but they won’t be assisting. Otto won’t question the house.” Dietrich drops his head back and stares up at the sky, choking out a laugh. “Emilie, I’m no stranger to the truths we aren’t supposed to know, but still, somehow, find out. Even my darling wife has a past she cannot speak of, but that’s for her to dwell on, not me.”

I’m not sure what he’s alluding to, but I certainly wasn’t aware there was any tension between him and his wife, especially since she’s carrying a third child with him. They had a set of twins less than a year after being wed and then fell pregnant again just months after giving birth. I thought their marriage was on the up-and-up given they’re so eager to grow a family.

However, he isn’t wrong about the secrets Otto kept from me, and I’m not sure if they were because he wanted to keep me safe. Despite everything—lies, truths, deceit, and faithfulness—I would never choose for Danner to die because of my resentment toward what Dietrich has been doing and will continue to do.

“I understand,” I say.

“I understand,” he mimics. “Wonderful. We are in agreement, then. You will assist me with writing this memorandum and I’ll ensure that volunteer remains alive.” He reaches his hand out to solidify the deal, and as if I’m possessed, I take the agreement. “Aside from the two of us, no one else will be privy to this information.”

With each blink, the image of Danner with blue lips and skin as white as frost sinks deeper into my mind’s eye. I would do anything to keep him safe. He would do the same for me. “Yes, I agree with the terms.”

“I agree,” he confirms to himself. “As I said before, Emilie, you’re a brilliant young woman. I realize this memorandum will take some time to write up, so I ask that you leave written portions on my desk daily so that I have time to review and re-type promptly. You’re still listed as an approved counterpart working with me in Block 5 and won’t have any problems entering the prison grounds or the building.”

I pull my hand from his, feeling as though I’ve just made a deadly pact without knowing who will die in the end. How many innocent German citizens have stepped over the line between good and evil? It seems common to be blackmailed into doing what most would never consider.

My throat tightens as I stare into his dark beady eyes, wondering if there’s even a soul left within his being.

“Enjoy your day, Emilie,” he says, stepping back from my front door and jovially hopping down the front steps.

I close the door, secure the lock and drop my forehead against the wooden trim.

My marriage doesn’t need added burden, and every day seems a step closer to a place we won’t come back from.

In the kitchen, I scribble out a grocery list. If Otto has taken on a new job so soon, surely he’ll be on board with me re-enrolling in classes.

If only I could truly do so.

He just has to think I am so he doesn’t find out I’m helping Dietrich of all people. He wouldn’t understand why I’m doing what I’m doing after everything we’ve been through. I’m not sure I could make him understand that I’m willing to risk my life if it means possibly saving Danner’s.

Since I haven’t had the time to make a satisfying meal lately, I’ll put together a nice dinner. It will be the perfect setting to inform each other of the changes we’ll both be taking on. One thing is certain, I’ll need to start taking frequent trips to the library to brush up on any forgotten material before stepping foot into a classroom. Otto will understand that part.

I complete my list for the store and grab my coat, purse, and scarf, to make the short walk to the bus stop. The winds are brutal today, making me think about the prisoners who must be working outside in their thin layers of clothing.

I pull my gloves out of my pockets and slip them on over my hands before tightening my scarf once more as I approach the full bench of people also waiting for the bus.

“Emilie Berger,” a familiar voice speaks out from behind me. “Where are you heading?”

I turn around, finding Helga, dressed similarly to me, blowing cold puffs of air out of her mouth. “Hi, Helga. Oh, I just have to make a quick trip to the grocery store.”

“Me too,” she says. “I went to start making dinner and found out I had a bad batch of potatoes and I’m out of cream. I didn’t have any intention of weathering this cold today.”

I smile at her rather than think up something to respond with. I wish we were closer or had spent more time together since it seems she and her husband, Wilhelm, have a similar marital setup as Otto and me. He keeps her in the dark and assumes she’ll be okay with it, but she’s not. Just like me.

“I prefer warmer weather too,” I finally blurt out.