Preface
Edinburg, Scotland
September 1938
#
One of the oldest taverns in Edinburgh, the Tollbooth Tavern was still a favorite for the locals. From the 400 year old stones of the ancient Cannon Gait to the interior which suggests it’s connection to the past in the carved bar and low lighting. Laurie MacKenzie leaned over his favorite table in one of the darker corners. The pint in his hand untouched. “But we’ve seen firsthand what they’re up to at Voss. We have to tell someone. Hitler’s a madman who’s taking his whole bloody country to war.”
He waited for his Irish friend to speak. Terri frowned as he took a long drink of his Guinness before answering. “If the government finds out we’ve entered the country illegally, they might send us back.” He shook his head. “That’s a death sentence for Lydia and the children. I don’t see how we can take the chance.” He drank again and wiped his sleeve past his mouth. “Tell them it was all you. Leave me and Lydia out of it.”
“I could, Aye, but is the risk worth it to the ones we love.”
“I caught a piece in the Berliner. That exfiancé of yers married a bloke by the name of Eric Braun.” Laurie looked up sharply. “Know him, do you?”
“Sister Ana was his friend, I guess you’d say, but I thought him pure evil. No, I’m not sure how we’d risk telling White Hall about the flying bombs without risking Gretchen and Deter.” Laurie looked pained as he added. “And Katrine. Would they really send the kinder back?” But he knew the answer. It’d happened. A change of topic was in order to lift the gloom that settled on them. “Say did you know, this place is haunted?”
Terri chuckled. “Reported by patrons in their cuffs? You Scots see ghosts everywhere.” He shrugged. “We Irish blame them on good whiskey.”
Laurie looked at his pocket-watch, a wedding gift from Fiona. He rose, his ale still untouched. “Almost time for our tea.” A grin replaced his worried expression. Home meant sitting down with his girls. If Fiona was the best wife, best friend a man could hope for, Katrine was the best little sister.
“And don’t you still look like a bonny bridegroom? Say, aren’t you going to drink that? An Irish man would never leave his Guinness on the table.” Laurie picked up the glass and downed it in several gulps. “Good Lord, man. It’ll all rush to her head. No wonder you see ghosts.” He almost added I share my house with one but Laurie decided now was not the time to bring up the Black Captain.
Had it only been two months since they escaped from Germany with two Jewish children and an EurAsian teenage girl, but leaving behind a Franciscan Nun, Sister Ana who gave her life so they could escape. And of course. Terri and his small family. Those months flew past with the inquest into Alec’s death, his marriage to Fiona, a short honeymoon, and sorting out their next steps. They’d had many talks like this one. What should they do next? The only thing they’d settled on was looking for work.
Thanks to their friend Bernie, who kept his ear to the ground, they’d heard about openings at Henry Robb Limited of Leith. Tomorrow, they had an appointment with a clerk. Terri grabbed his arm. Come on, we’ll both be in trouble if we’re late for our tea.
​
December 1938, Hamburg Germany
Darkness settled over the Hamburg docks. The wind swept in from the sea chilling SS Obersturmbannführer, Eric Braun to the bone. His thoughts were as black as the water lapping against the pilings. He pulled his stocking cap over his pale blonde hair. Most good Germans are home with their families eating the evening meal. Not me, I’m out here in the cold waiting for Michael’s signal. He cast his glance behind him. The men in his squad looked as eager to be done with this assignment and return to the warmth of their barracks as he was to be home with his wife and a good meal in-front of him.
There’d been a time when he felt like a wolf stalking his pray, routing out Jews and subversives, but not now; it held no attraction. Not since Ana. He shook his head, trying to shake the little nun’s image from his mind.
There it was; a flash of light from across the empty shipping yard, a pause and two more. He drew his Luger and signaled for his men to follow. They moved along the wall of the building, keeping to the shadows. Easy enough. The lighting was poor at best in the warehouse district.
A dock worker reported the cry of an infant coming from a deserted building. Jews, probably. Michael was making far too much of rounding up some sorry-looking Jews. Whatever joy he’d taken in the hunt died in Rudeshime. He only went through the motions. At least this would be good practice for the men. New laws were coming into effect. Der Lebensraum was the favored new word. The Arian race needed living room, and the Jews would give it to them. At least for now.
He opened the back door quietly, and they slipped inside. It was a large empty space. Puddles of water on the concrete floor reflected light coming from somewhere above. A baby’s cry. He could see movement across the main floor and knew it was the group with Michael. They were climbing the stairs on the far wall to what appeared to be a second-floor office. Why did the Jews cover the windows with newspapers? Stupid, Dumkahf. We can’t see them, but they can’t see us coming either.
Eric looked around for an escape route, or an exit door. There were outside windows high above them. Spaced at regular intervals. It was likely some of them might extend into the Jew’s hiding space.
He pointed to the windows. “Look there, you two, back outside and see if any of those windows have fire escapes. We don’t want our friends above finding a way out.” Two of his men turned back at his orders. He signaled for the others to follow him. They would be support for Michael’s group.
They crossed the empty warehouse floor quickly and followed Michael’s squad up the stairs. There was a loud crash from above as Michael must have kicked the door in. “God, he loves drama.” They were running up the steps when a gunshot echoed through the building, screams, another loud bang. It was all over before Eric and his men rushed into the small room.
A man lay on the floor, a pool of blood spreading out around his body. He was very blond, not your typical Jew. A woman cowered in the corner, holding an infant who wailed in protest. Her blond hair hung limp, hiding her face. Her body curled round the tiny bundle.
It surprised Eric that he had empathy for the small family. He covered it with terse words. “Stupid Jew, why did he resist?” It was then that Eric notice the standard military issue Sauer 38H on the floor next to the man. He stepped forward and turned the man’s head with the muzzle of his still drawn Lugar.
Eric sucked in a quick breath. “I know this man. He was an adjutant under Mueller’s command.” He looked at the woman. “Surely not a Jew?”
She sobbed. “We’re not Jews.”
“But why? Why shoot at us?” The ramifications of shooting another officer were filling his mind.
Michael stepped over the body. “He brought this on himself by shooting first.” Michael bent and pulled the woman up, the infant still clutched to her.
Her voice quivered. “Is he dead?”
Michael sounded unconcerned. “Dead? Ja, most certainly.”
Her wail joined the infant’s scream. “Nooo.”
Eric grabbed her arm, shook it a little. “Stop it. What were you doing hiding here?”
She whimpered the words. “Our baby.”
“What? Why did he draw on us? Surely he must have known us for military.”
It was Michael who offered a reason. He stepped forward. “Newborn?”
The woman nodded but drew the bundle of blankets closer to her body.
“Let’s have a look, shall we?”
With a speed that surprised them all, she shot past them for the door. “Stop her.” A burly soldier stepped into her path, halting her escape. Michael was there in two steps and. turned the blankets back to reveal a tiny face; beautiful if not for the split in its lip from the nose through the tiny rosebud lips. “Hair lip. Disgusting. They should have destroyed it at birth.”
She wailed again. “No, please, you can’t.”
Michael ignored her protest. “Take them. We’ll let the Ministry of German Purity deal with this.”
Eric grabbed his arm. “They weren’t Jews?” feeling an unexpected wave a sympathy for the woman. “What will happen to them?”
“They’ll kill the enfant, but the woman.” He paused. “Probably only sterilized.” He motioned for the men to carry out the husband. “We’ve already made sure, he won’t spawn anymore monsters.”
“Aren’t you the least bit worried about explaining the death of Mueller’s adjutant?”
Michael looked at him with undisguised destain. “Marriage has made you soft.”
Eric crossed his arms, summoning the wolf’s mask. “I was only thinking of your career.”
“Oh, I see, You’re worried about me. Why, because you have a rich wife to stand behind you?”
Eric gave an explosive laugh. “You know Michael, you really should get one.They might come in handy when you have to explain this man’s death.”
Michael shrugged and moved to leave the office. Eric knew his friend was only fallowing Reich policy, but just now it made him uneasy. Eric followed Michael down stairs. Tonight Michael had been the wolf hunting subversives.
Not so long ago, Eric had been the wolf hunting Ana and the orphans across Germany. He’d been under no illusions of their fate if he’d caught them. He understood Michael. He’d been just like him. But something was happening to him. Sister Ana changed him. She was still changing him. Her voice whispered reason to the wolf. Whenever he tried to be the heartless SS hunter, she walked at his side. He knew she wasn’t really there but he held on to her memory.
It ended badly for Ana. His heart still ached at the memory of Ana’s life ebbing away in his arms. Michael’s bullet ending her life and exposing her betrayal. Ana cared for me. I know it. She was only protecting the children. This man died doing the same for his family.
 Michael relaxed, untroubled by the death of any subversives. “Come on Eric, we’ll have a stein of good German beer, and you can help me write the report.”
“You do the paperwork. I’m going home to my dinner.”
“Ja, ja. And your rich wife.”
​
Chapter One
* Henry Robb Limited in Leith
Leith, Edinburgh, Scotland
September 1937
On a typical blustery February Edinburgh morning, Laurie and Terri set off to the offices of Henry Robb Limited in Leith. It was a good firm from all accounts, and it had the added benefit of being close to home. The ship builder was an unimpressive brick building on the west of Leith docks. But what went on the back side was pure magic to a marine engineer. The clerk’s office that overlooked doc side. A stroke of genius meant to entice marine engineers like the lads. Terri’s face reflected the pure pleasure Laurie felt.
The clerk called their attention back to the matter at hand. “And where did you both work?” He looked over their applications.
Laurie cleared his throat. “Vass Marine Engineering in Hamburg Germany.”
The little man’s head jerked up. He held up a finger. “One minute, please.” And he was out the door at a quick walk.
“Did I say something wrong?”
The Laurie raised an eyebrow, but Terry shrugged. A full five minutes later, a middle-aged man in shirtsleeves and suspenders came back into the room. “Gentle men, this is Mr Henry Robb”
The lads looked at each other in question.
Mr Robb already had his hand extended for hand shakes. And took both Laurie and Terry’s hands in a vigorous shake.
“Please to meet you. Come with me.” He was off at a clip pace down the stairs to the factory level and through an open door. Past two secretaries and into a glassed in office. There were charts and schematics covering his desk. He pulled one off the bottom and spread it on top of all the others and slid a coffee cup on to one corner and a wrench on the opposite corner. Laurie scrunched his brows together and gave Terri a sharp glance.
“Tell me what’s wrong with this design.”
Not your average interview, but okay. Both men bent over the desk, studying the plans.
“This reminds me of that last problem Vass put us to.”
“Aye, it was a wiring problem.” Laurie followed the wiring schematic with his finger. Then pointed to the same place they’d found in the Vass plans. “There’s your problem.”
Henry Robb followed their inspection closely. “By God, why didn’t my blokes see that.”
“They didn’t find it a Vass either.”
“But you did?”
Terri leaned his arm on Laurie's shoulder. “We’re a pretty good team is all.”
Robb looked from Laurie to Terri. “Right, you’re both hired.”
​
February 1938
Sunday February 6, 1938
The Frueher’s orders were explicit. They were going to take back Austria. Millions of Germans inhabited Austria, once part of Germany. Hitler had taken full control of the military and a frenzied excitement ran through the troops. He watched the wave of conviction take hold of the surrounding men.
Eric supervised preparations for an advance to the Austrian border. He’d never seen them move so fast to load all the supplies into waiting box trucks. Michael could barely stand still, checking manifests, making sure every weapon was clean and working well. He was everywhere at once, overseeing, even joking with the men about the Austrian Jews they would hunt. Michael was the wolf.
But not him. Eric was an observer; coldly analytical, but unaffected by the same excitement that possessed the land. He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets for warmth, watching the progress. He saw the spirit of the hunt take individuals with its drive; all sense of morals, compassion gone.
Now that was an odd thought. Since when have I cared about morals, compassion?
Ana’s voice floated through his mind. “True success is to become the man God intended you to be.” He wanted to stop her intrusions into his thoughts. She haunted him, separating him from everything he’d been. At the same time, he welcomed her voice because it kept her spirit close to him. Her presence never far from his side.
Eric shook his head. One of his men stopped to hand him a message. “Are you alright, Obersturmbannführer?”
The soldier’s concern a sign of how far he’d fallen from the feral wolf. Before Ana, other’s respected and feared him. He railed at the thought that he inspired sympathy from others. Eric’s boyish face transformed. At least he could summon the wolf’s mask when needed. He gave the soldier the hard stare. The man looked started by Eric’s reaction. Gratified that he turned a man’s heart to fear with a wolfs glare, if it was only a shadow of its former life.
Pedar Bergmann stood at his pulpit, pulling up his tall, lanky frame and squaring his shoulders. With his dark hair and soft brown eyes, he looked more like a scholar than a warrior. He stood now at the frontline, trying to remember the battle was God’s. His fingers were white as he gripped the sides of the lecture. He took a moment to look out over his small congregation. Many were older, though some of the younger couples had stayed out of conviction to support the truth. So many others had believed the lies and left to attend the German Christian church. The Reich church. Hitler’s church.
Pedar sighed. Thirty now sat in a sanctuary built for two hundred. They waited for him to start. But before he spoke his eyes came to rest on his young wife Liesl. The sun shone through age old stain glass windows and lit her curly red hair like a fiery halo around her sweet heart-shaped face. Her deep blue eyes blazed with pride. He smiled, and she smiled back, nodding encouragement to him.
Pedar cleared his throat, fearing the cold he’d been nursing might rob him of his voice. He took deep a breath and began with a Reich approved song. “Open your hymn books to page 29. ‘Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring’ by Johann Sebastian Bauch.” He glanced over to old Mrs. Steiner, and her fingers set free the rich sounds of the century old pipe organ. The congregation stood. Pedar coughed once and began.
Word of God, our flesh that fashioned
With the fire of life impassioned,
Striving still to truth unknown
Soaring, dying round Thy throne, Jesus, joy of man’s desiring.
Carried away with the song, his heart soared above the music with the truth in each word. He was ready to deliver the truth to his congregation.
At the close of the last note, Pedar put aside his written Riech approved sermon and spoke from his heart.
“Truth.” He held up his worn bible. “You find it right here. I challenge you all to do a study this week on the word truth. How many times is it said by our Lord? Doesn’t Jesus say ‘Truly I say to you? ’ Over and over, you’ll find the word.” Unbidden words filled his mouth, “John 8:32 Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.”
The door to the sanctuary opened and closed. Pedar glanced up as a short, wind blown man entered the sanctuary. The chilly February morning followed him as he sat near the back.
Heads turned all over the congregation to look at who brought the chill of February into the room. But Pedar continued. “When do we consider someone a true believer? Peter asked our Lord what we must do. Our Lord said. ‘Believe.’ Those early Christians were all Jews first but believing in Jesus transformed them into followers of Christ.”
#
Liesl’s heart beat so fast and the baby she carried kicked at her side in protest. She looked around at the small group of parishioners they had left. Many of them had turned in their seats toward the back of the church. She glanced over her shoulder at the little man who sat with the look of a stone gargoyle; an exaggerated frown on his fat, little face. Pedar hadn’t missed a beat, carried away by his firm commitment to the Gospel. He was a member of a group of pastors calling themselves the Confessing Church: meaning they held fast to the confessions of the early church. She loved him for his courage, but feared for their little family’s future.
Finally, Mrs. Steiner started the last hymn, and she breathed easier. Glancing over her shoulder, she sighed with relief the little man had left. Maybe it would be alright. Probably the man was only finding shelter from the frosty February morning.
As the chorus began, Pedar walked down the aisle to stand at the door. It was his habit to say a few words of encouragement to each person, shake their hands and ask after their needs. Not that they could do much but pray. It seemed to make all the difference to their parishioners. And she knew her husband would do whatever he could to help them. Even if it meant emptying their small cupboards and money jar. She sighed and waited for him in his office, hoping he wouldn’t stand too long in that cold door. She knew he wasn’t feeling well. Just now, she wasn’t overly benevolent. The little gargoyle man at the back of the church worried her.
She knew her husband would always preach the truth. A dangerous thing to do in these troubled times. Today’s sermon might be treason against the Reich. The Confessing Church held to the doctrine that even Jews who believed must be considered christian. But every day christian Jews were being arrested along with members of the Jewish community. They’d lost three families from their congregation whose parents or even grandparents had been Jews. Pedar had protested, but could get no one released or even find out what became of them. Pedar was fearless and right now, she wasn’t so happy about his brave words. She was fearful. Afraid for him and afraid for the child she carried.
When the little gargoyle showed up at their apartment door, she stepped back as a blow of shock and fear hit her. So he’d already reported her husband for his sermon on Truth. Their Sunday lunch sat on the table, still hot. The little man looked at her with disdain as he pushed past her into the front room unbidden, followed by two police officers. Pedar came to stand next to his wife. His arm circled Liesl’s shoulder and gave her a little squeeze of encouragement. His voice was calm, even friendly as he said, “How can I help you?” He might have said the same to any of his parishioners. She held her features impassively, but her stomach clenched.
The little man puffed up with his duty to the fatherland. “Herr Pedar Bergmann, you are under arrest for crimes against the Reich Church.”
“You sat thru my sermon this morning. I spoke only the truth.”
“Your truth, ja?”
“God’s truth.”
The men in black uniforms stepped past Liesl, pushing her roughly aside and grabbing hold of Pedar’s arms. That’s when she lost it. Screaming, “Stop this. He’s a pastor, not a criminal.” She pushed one officer away and his hand struck out with practiced speed, clouting a blow to her cheek. She stubble backward, landing on the floor at the Gargoyle’s feet.
Pedar lunged with all his strength towards her, but another black shirt punched him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. He sagged between the two men as they dragged him out the door.
The little man looked down at Liesl, still sprawled on the floor. He shook his head. “I assure you, Frau Bergmann, you do your husband no favors with this attitude. Besides, prison is not a sanitary place to give birth.”
The gargoyle turned to follow his men, slamming the door behind him.
Liesl didn’t get up. She curled into a ball as much as her swollen body would allow and wept. Her cheeked ached. She must have bitten the inside of her mouth too. She tasted the sharp metal flavor of blood. How long had she been laying there crying? Ten minutes, twenty? Finally, she roused herself, remembering Pedar’s courage.
She’d been so proud of his courage, and she lay here alone and afraid on the floor. They wouldn’t hold him long. It would be alright, it had to be. Pedar only spoke the truth. They can’t jail him for words?
Her stomach rolled as the baby signaled a need to change positions. Liesl moved onto her hands and knees and grabbed hold of the sofa to pull herself on to the cushions. She closed her eyes and prayed. “Help.” It was all she could think to say. “Help. Help Pedar. Help me. I don’t know what to do.” A name came to her, like someone whispered in her ear. “Thomas.”
Thomas Dorchner was Pedar’s Deacon. He was also his closest friend. Thomas would know what to do next.