Paul sat next to Rundstedt, both men exchanging a look filled with quiet melancholy. After a while, the wail of sirens began to echo through the streets, growing louder with every passing second.
Police officers rushed into the house and froze at the gruesome scene. The two high-ranking officers sitting there made it clear that this was far above their pay grade. Moments later, black Mercedes limousines rolled up in front of the house.
Gestapo men stormed inside with pistols drawn. They pushed the police aside, secured the perimeter and began providing first aid.
Paul shoved one of the men away. "Go there, you idiot," he muttered, pointing toward the kitchen.
"Heinrich."The shout drew Paul's attention.
"Heydrich, good to see you, friend," Paul said.
Heydrich hurried to him at once, helping him stand while another Gestapo officer rushed to assist the unconscious Rundstedt.
"What in hell happened?" Heydrich asked, taking in Paul's battered state.
"We were attacked," Paul muttered. He pulled Heydrich with him into the kitchen. When he saw that Elisabeth was receiving treatment, he finally exhaled in relief.
A groan suddenly echoed from the floor.
"He is still alive?" Paul asked, astonished as he looked at the intruder Rundstedt had shot. He grabbed Heydrich by the arm. "We need this one alive at all costs."
Heydrich nodded and barked orders for the men to stabilize the attacker.
Berlin, Charité Hospital
The entire floor had been cleared of patients by the time Paul, Rundstedt, Elisabeth and the surviving intruder arrived. Gestapo men guarded every door and every corner.
Rundstedt and Elisabeth were brought into intensive care, Paul the only one still conscious, refused.
The doctor froze when he saw Paul's condition.
"Two broken ribs. A sprained wrist. Severe lacerations across the back."He glanced at the infusion bag. "Why has the patient received no morphine, Sister Betina?!" He shouted in disbelief.
Paul grabbed his wrist before he could continue.
"No morphine. It dulls the senses," Paul said. His voice was firm, almost threatening. He knew he could not afford any dullness now.
"But Herr Oberst..." the doctor began.
"I said no, doctor. Do your duty," Paul cut him off.
The doctor opened his mouth to protest again, then noticed the Gestapo officers blocking the doorway. After a tense pause, he lowered his head and obeyed.
"Then I must ask you to turn around. We need to remove the wooden splinters across your back. But be warned, this will not be pleasant," the doctor said as he picked up a pair of pincers.
"Mhm," Paul groaned, tensing every muscle. The doctor pulled out splinter after splinter, some nearly the size of a pen.
"You cannot enter," the Gestapo officer at the door said.
Paul turned his head and saw an SS officer in a black uniform. Blood seemed to rise in his eyes. Paul had long suspected that Himmler was behind the attack. The methods, the precision, the efficiency. Everything pointed to the SS. And considering the spy Himmler had tried to plant in Paul's division, the pattern was unmistakable. Yet he still lacked proof, which was why he waited anxiously for the intruder's surgery to finish.
"As I said, you cannot enter," the Gestapo man repeated, now sounding openly hostile.
"I can and I will," the SS officer replied coldly.
Paul stopped the doctor with a raised hand and slowly got off the bed.
"Herr Oberst, I am not finished," the doctor protested.
Paul did not care about the blood streaming down his back. He walked toward the door, towering over both the SS officer and the Gestapo man. With his broad frame, bleeding wounds and cold, predatory eyes, he looked terrifying.
"You arrived astonishingly fast, officer," Paul said with a cold hint of sarcasm as he leaned toward the SS officer's ear.
"Either you walk away right now, or I will kill you in the next second, Herr Obersturmführer," he whispered, gripping the man by the collar.
"Herr Jeager... please calm down," the officer muttered. "Herr Himmler has ordered the SS to secure the hospital. This is an SS matter, not a Gestapo matter." He cast a harsh glance at the Gestapo man beside him.
Paul's face twisted, a flicker of madness crossing his features.
"I said I will kill you," Paul repeated. His hand shot up, closing around the officer's throat. In one brutal motion he lifted him off the ground, strangling him.
The officer gasped for air."Herr... Jeag...er—"
"Hey!" a voice shouted from the hallway. "What are you doing with our commander?"
Three SS soldiers stormed toward Paul. He looked at them with annoyance, then released the officer, shoving him violently to the ground. Before the first soldier could react, Paul drove a punch into his stomach, sending him stumbling back.
The second soldier stepped forward, but a loud shout cut through the corridor.
"Stop! What are you doing?"
Paul turned his head and recognized the man pushing through the crowd of onlookers: Manstein, flanked by Wehrmacht soldiers.
"General," the SS officer croaked, still catching his breath. "This is an SS matter, not a Wehrmacht or Gestapo matter."
"An SS matter?" Manstein repeated, his voice rising with fury. "Are you out of your mind? A Wehrmacht General and an Oberst were nearly killed in an inland attack, and you tell me this is not a Wehrmacht issue?"
Manstein took a step forward, his eyes burning with authority. He gestured sharply to the soldiers behind him.
"Escort this officer and his men out. As of this moment, this incident is a Wehrmacht matter. All other personnel are to leave the building immediately!"
Flocks of Wehrmacht soldiers rushed up the stairs, filling the posts left vacant by the Gestapo men and restoring structure and order.
"Heinrich." Mannstein narrowed his eyes. "What happened?"
"I..." Paul began, but before he could continue, a door opened. A man on a stretcher was pushed through the hallway.
The intruder, Paul thought.
"We will learn soon enough," Paul said and gestured for Mannstein to follow.
After fifteen minutes the man regained consciousness. His eyelids lifted to a remarkable sight: A Wehrmacht General, Paul and Heydrich standing nearby, Paul still shirtless and half a dozen Wehrmacht soldiers surrounding the room.
"Close the door," Paul ordered.
The soldiers obeyed.
"Who are you?" Paul asked. The man's gaze darted around the room, searching desperately for an escape that did not exist.
Paul grabbed his chin and forced his head upward.
"I asked you a question," Paul said. "There is nowhere to go. Either you talk now or you will talk after pain you cannot imagine. You decide."
The man's head lowered slightly, his eyes watery.
"Colin Lancaster," he muttered. The American accent was unmistakable.
Paul leaned back and exhaled.
Everything was clear now. Himmler had worked with the Americans. Perhaps this was linked to the old man who wanted him dead so badly, or to Klausemann. Paul studied the trembling young man.
Himmler had used him as a scapegoat in case the operation failed. But the others had been German. Almost certainly SS. Himmler would never admit that, of course.
I will gamble, Paul thought.
"Why were the intruders with you German?" Paul asked, stepping closer.
Heydrich raised an eyebrow but remained silent.
Lancaster looked away, shame flickering in his eyes.
Paul grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back into place.
"Why were they German?" Paul roared.
Heydrich stepped forward as well. "Quite a nice leg you have. How about I amputate it right now, Colin?" he said, licking his lips.
"No, please!" Lancaster cried.
"Then tell us why," Heydrich shouted, turning toward a nurse. "Give me the bone saw."
The nurse stared at him in horror, but her hands obeyed before she could think, placing the saw into his grip with trembling fingers.
When Lancaster saw the blade, he shook his head violently.
"No. No. No!"
"It was Himmler!"
For a moment the room froze. Everyone was stunned, everyone except Paul.
Of course it was him, Paul thought, satisfaction spreading in his chest. He had gambled correctly.
"Look, it was Himmler. All of it. I was forced to do this. They blackmailed me," the young American stammered.
"Why you?" Paul pressed, while the others were still processing the revelation.
"You know Klausemann, right? He was with you..." Lancaster mumbled before Paul cut him off.
"Yes? Is he your superior?"
Lancaster hesitated, glancing at the bone saw before swallowing hard. "He is. He ordered me to give information about you to Himmler."
Paul exchanged a look with Heydrich. Manstein leaned forward. They had all heard the rumors. A spy in the higher ranks of the Condor Legion. Someone who had slipped through the Gestapo's grasp.
"Do you know where Klausemann is right now?" Heydrich asked, stepping closer.
Lancaster let out a broken laugh. "Where? In the US, of course. In New York."
Heydrich's eyes widened. "Do you have an address?"
"I do. Will you let me go if I tell you?" Lancaster asked, adjusting his posture with visible desperation.
"That will remain to be seen," Paul muttered before leaving the room together with Heydrich and Manstein.
"Unbelievable," Manstein said quietly. "To think Himmler would dare attempt something like this. It is a disgrace. Utterly disgraceful. We will have to inform the Führer."
Paul stopped and turned. "It is not yet time to deal with him. Acting now would start processes no one can control."
He lowered his voice. "Can I count on you, Erich?"
"I have already spoken with Reeder about this topic. I will not intervene as long as you do not damage Germany," Manstein replied slowly. "I know your abilities, Jeager. I trust them. Do as you must, but keep me informed."
Paul exhaled in relief. Manstein was one of the greatest players. A man he did not have to fight against.
"First, we inform Hitler that the Americans were behind this. Let Himmler believe his little trick succeeded. Then we deal with Klausemann and the person supporting him. There is one, I am certain of it," Paul said, turning to Heydrich, who answered with a firm nod.
"Most definitely. The American intelligence services want you dead, or rather some individual wants it, ever since your name spread," Heydrich said.
"Intelligence service," Paul repeated, letting the words roll off his tongue.
The intelligence services of this era should not have the capabilities for such an operation. Only the CIA, established much later, could manage something on this level. Was this a butterfly effect caused by his and Werner's actions? Or…
"Either way. I have decided. Heydrich, we will have to do a little vacation..."Paul said.
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Second one today
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