Chapter 149: You Sing
Fully armed police sealed the stairwell leading down from the publishing house and issued their final warning.
When the men inside still refused to surrender, axes smashed through the doors.
At the same time, members of the military clubs assigned to the operation tied ropes to the roof, rappelled down the outer walls, kicked through windows, and burst into the rooms from above. Shattered glass sprayed across desks and printing plates. The men whose names appeared on the arrest lists were thrown to the floor before they even understood what was happening.
The same scene unfolded in every corner of the city.
Police lights crisscrossed outside windows. Boots thundered through stairwells. Doors were kicked open, names were shouted, and suspects were dragged into the cold night before the ink on their propaganda leaflets had even dried.
Thälmann was in a café, discussing the German Communist Party's next move, when his security men suddenly grabbed him and pulled him toward the back door.
He had not even finished reacting.
Outside, the streets were changing.
The crowd receded like a tide. Cafés, bars, hotels, and storefronts began shutting their doors one after another. Even the vehicles moving along the street thinned rapidly, as if the entire city had sensed that something enormous was descending.
Police cars were converging from every direction.
There was no choice. The nearest Soviet Russian consulate was still too far away. The driver could only press the accelerator to the floor and steer toward the coal district, hoping to hide Thälmann among the miners.
But the moment they arrived, the gatekeeper who had once greeted them with familiarity refused to let them in.
When they tried the workers' dormitories, they were pushed away again.
The failed speech, combined with the photographs printed in the newspapers, had destroyed what remained of the working class's trust in them.
No one wanted to be ruled by Russians.
For these men, nationality had finally outweighed internationalism.
As the police lights behind them drew closer, Thälmann's security detail still wanted to take him to a school and then to a prepared safe house. At the very least, they wanted to preserve his life.
But Thälmann shook his head.
The workers' rejection had crushed the foundation of his faith.
He sat at the entrance of the dormitory like a man whose soul had already been emptied from his body. He waved his hand weakly.
"You go."
His voice was hoarse.
"I don't want to run anymore. I only want to stay in my own country, even if that means staying in a prison."
Seeing that they could not persuade him, his guards said nothing more. They quickly withdrew from the district, leaving Thälmann sitting alone beneath the cold lamps, watching the police close in from every direction.
If the German Communist Party faced arrest, then the Workers Party faced something far harsher.
They had just opened fire on the Internal and External Intelligence Department.
For them, Vito issued only one order.
Leave no one untouched.
Munich, the birthplace and stronghold of the Workers Party, suffered the most severe purge.
Workers Party members who hid at home, imagining they could escape by keeping their heads down, had their doors smashed open and were dragged away for investigation in front of their wives and children.
At the training base used to cultivate the Brownshirts, some diehards still attempted armed resistance. Mortars were dragged out. Several police officers were killed or wounded in the first exchange.
One shell even landed dangerously close to an elementary school.
Certain politicians, fearing that their own ties to Hill and British intelligence would be exposed, chose desperation. They opened doors for the Workers Party's resistance, informing its members of the exact locations of arms depots and power stations.
Their counterattack enraged Vito.
After submitting his request, he raised Munich's danger level directly to red and rushed to the city overnight to personally oversee the operation.
Gallows were erected in Munich's central square.
Politicians and businessmen who had supported the Workers Party were sentenced in public broadcasts, then hanged immediately afterward.
For parasites who had sold out national interests, there would be no mercy.
As for the diehards entrenched in the training base, Vito rejected the Army's suggestion to storm the compound and capture it.
He dispatched two newly mass-produced Stuka dive bombers from a nearby military airfield.
They flattened the entire training base.
After bringing down the hammer, Vito offered the carrot.
A citywide broadcast announced that anyone who surrendered and provided information would receive lenient treatment. Any resident attempting to hide traitors or provide them shelter would be subject to the same investigation.
Within a single day, the extremists who had nowhere left to run were blindfolded and delivered to the Internal and External Intelligence Department for interrogation.
At the border, several key members of the Workers Party attempted to cross into Austria and flee toward Italy. They looked disheveled and exhausted.
Because time had been too tight, they had brought almost nothing with them.
A full day without food, combined with the grueling journey through the countryside, left them starving and weak.
Himu Lai was among them.
When he saw a small farm near the border, hunger and fatigue finally overcame caution. He decided to rest.
Taking out the false identification he had prepared in advance, he walked up and knocked on the door.
An elderly couple appeared.
Seeing his miserable appearance, they greeted him kindly.
"Young man? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, sir."
Himu Lai lowered his head, forcing a weary smile.
"I lost my way, and I have no money. I wanted to ask if…"
The old man had a wrinkled face, white hair, and a farmer's hat pulled low over his brow. He studied Himu Lai for a moment, then nodded.
"Would bread and milk be enough? There is also half a roast chicken left from dinner, if you do not mind leftovers."
Himu Lai nodded eagerly and stepped inside. He rushed to the dining table and began eating.
The old man brought him a cup of milk and spoke in a familiar, almost comforting tone.
"You came in from Austria, didn't you? Don't worry, I won't report you. I heard the economy there is even worse than ours. At least Germany still has food. In Austria, I hear some places are already running short of potatoes."
He sighed, then smiled with a trace of pride.
"But don't worry. We have a good Chancellor now. He led Germany to reclaim Silesia and Danzig. A Chancellor with such courage cannot be a fool. Germany's future will only become better."
"You can stay here quietly for now. I still need a…"
Clang.
A golden Workers Party badge slipped from Himu Lai's pocket and struck the floor.
The old man bent down and picked it up.
The moment he saw what it was, his expression changed.
Realizing the man before him was a traitor, he immediately turned and reached for the hunting rifle above the fireplace.
But Himu Lai was faster.
He drew his pistol and shot the two kind old people dead.
The gunshots startled the border patrol nearby.
Himu Lai swallowed the remaining roast chicken in two desperate bites, then forced himself up and fled the house, sprinting toward the border with the last of his strength.
The soldiers who entered the farmhouse saw the elderly couple lying on the floor.
They also saw the golden badge clenched tightly in the old man's hand.
Blood rushed to their faces.
Their whistles shrieked through the night. They raised their rifles and chased after Himu Lai, roaring curses into the darkness.
"You beast! You shot old people!"
"You thug who should be nailed to a cross!"
"Don't let me catch you! If I catch you, I'll cut you open and feed your guts to the dogs!"
In the woods, a shot cracked through the air.
Bang!
The bullet grazed Himu Lai's ear.
He crossed the border and saw an Austrian patrol ahead. For one fleeting moment, he rushed toward them as if he had found salvation.
But to his horror, the German patrolmen crossed the border after him.
Himu Lai stumbled backward, waving his passport as he shouted.
"You're breaking the law! I'm an Austrian citizen! Look! This is an Austrian passport!"
"Don't arrest me! I have important information, very important information! Your superiors will want it. You'll be promoted. You'll get a raise. Let me go!"
His voice grew frantic.
"If you want money, I have money too. I have a private account in Switzerland. A lot of money!"
The German patrolmen did not even blink.
After bribing the Austrian patrol leader with a gold medal, they grabbed Himu Lai by the collar and dragged him back across the border.
One of them drew a hunting knife.
His voice was colder than the winter wind.
"I don't care who the hell you are. I don't want your money either."
He pressed the blade beneath Himu Lai's chin.
"This is the border. And murder must be paid for."
.....
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