THE FÜHRER'S DAUGHTER (Episode 1), Page 2

  He nodded but remained silent.

  “Oh, why must you be so dull?” She let out a burdened sigh, shook the water off of her bare foot, then walked to one of the chairs.

  Miles stepped out of the shadows and handed her a white towel. “Thought you might appreciate this, Miss Grace.”

  She took it and nodded her appreciation. “I’d like a few minutes alone, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Certainly, Miss Grace.” He bowed slightly, then retreated through the doors.

  “And you as well, soldier,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Freidrich inclined his head. “I’m due to make my rounds anyway.”

  Grace stretched her legs out and reclined so that she could gaze upward. A wispy layer of clouds barely concealed the full moon now.

  Perfect.

  She leaned forward to finish toweling off her legs. As she reached for the towel on the small table to her right, the corner of a small envelope pressed into her hand.

  “Hello? What’s this?”

  In classic English calligraphy, a pair of words were inscribed on the envelope:

  To Grace

  CHAPTER TWO

  WHO WOULD LEAVE ME A NOTE? Pulse quickening, Grace tore open the envelope. The enclosed slip of paper read:

  If it’s the truth you seek, then go to the place where you should not speak.

  “Where I should not speak?” What kind of riddle was this?

  She stood and returned to the palace. Drifting from room to room, she pondered the note’s meaning.

  Nothing in any of the downstairs rooms besides Father smoking Cuban cigars and playing cards with his guests.

  On the second floor, she found Mother talking with one of the palace servants in the hallway.

  “Are you looking for something, Grace?” Mother said.

  “If someone told you to go to ‘a place where you shouldn’t speak,’ where would you go?”

  “A library, of course. But what are you—?”

  “You’re as clever as you are beautiful.” Grace kissed her on the cheek. “I love you!” She darted down the hall toward the palace library.

  As soon as she entered the library, she turned the light on and scanned the room. To her delight, she found another envelope, also address to her. This time, the note read:

  This room is full of make believe.

  But in another, the truth you shall receive.

  She growled in delighted frustration.

  In another? We’ve only got one—

  The palace actually contained not one, but two libraries—one full of fiction at her full disposal, and the other locked and off limits up on the fourth floor, hidden from the usual palace traffic.

  Full of anticipation, she bounded up the remaining two flights of stairs.

  As soon as she reached the top, she bumped face first into a soldier in uniform.

  “What are you doing up here?” Freidrich said, holding her shoulders, then pushing back.

  Her face flushed, ears burned. “I…I could ask you the same.”

  “Making my rounds. But I’m under orders to report to my commander if anyone besides your father comes up here.”

  “Yes, yes. I’ve heard that my whole life: The fourth floor is off limits. One of Father’s foundational truths.”

  Friedrich squinted and furrowed his brow.

  “Never mind,” she said. “It’s just one of his idiosyncrasies. So, are you going to report me?”

  “Do I need to?”

  “I hope not, I’ve got some important business around here.”

  “Around where, exactly?”

  “The library at the end of the hall.” She grabbed Friedrich’s arm and pulled him close. “And you’re coming with me.”

  He didn’t budge. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go in there, much less enter myself. It’s forbidden. In fact, I’m supposed to shoot unauthorized intruders.”

  “Sounds positively scandalous.” She released his hand but took a step closer. “Doesn’t it just make you want to find out what’s inside, all the more?”

  “No.” He took a step back.

  “You wouldn’t actually shoot me, would you?”

  “Well…I…”

  She pulled him along and started for the library. “Then come on, let’s go.”

  “But…It’s locked.”

  “Did you check?”

  “It’s always locked.”

  “What kind of soldier doesn’t check the lock of a guarded room?” She smiled, winked at him, then pulled him with her down the hall to the forbidden library door.”

  “Wait! You mustn’t.” His voice resisted but his feet were actually going along. Edging past her, he stood between her and the door. “You can’t go in there.”

  “Guess you’ll have to shoot me.”

  He nodded absentmindedly.

  “Oh come on,” Grace said trying the doorknob. “Besides, it’s already open.”

  “What?” His eyes widened as the door creaked open several centimeters.

  “Now you have to go with me, if only to investigate.”

  He let out a terse breath.

  Before he could suggest otherwise, Grace slipped past him and into the chamber. She switched the light on and gaped in awe at the vast expanse of bookshelves. A small aisle split row after row of shelves.

  “I need to check this out quickly.” Freidrich shut the door behind them. “Then we leave. At once.”

  She nodded, but didn’t plan on doing so until she learned why those mysterious clues led her here. Walking about lightly, she took in the details of the room. Just what kind of library was this? There were hardly any books. Folders stuffed in stiff upright boxes dominated the shelves. It resembled an archive more than a library.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Freidrich said from halfway down the center aisle. “But once I finish looking, we’re leaving.”

  As if on the velvet paws of Brunhilde, her calico cat, Grace tiptoed about until her foot slipped on yet another envelope. She bent down, noted that it too had been addressed to her, then retrieved and opened it.

  She pulled out a black slip of paper, the note written in silver ink.

  In the back against the wall,

  Find the proof that things aren’t what they seem at all

  Casting off all caution, she raced to the back wall, her footsteps pounding hard against the hardwood floor.

  “What are you doing?” Freidrich hissed as she raced past him.

  “The truth awaits.”

  She reached the back wall, then searched the shelves.

  A moment later, Freidrich appeared. “What exactly are you looking for?”

  “Another clue.” She kept looking. Perhaps it was something familiar. Then she found it. On the bottom shelf, another envelope with her name sat atop a sealed box. “There!”

  She knelt down.

  Freidrich joined her.

  “We really need to go,” he said, looking over Grace’s shoulder. “The other guards are probably already on their way. If they catch us—”

  “Then what?” Grace said. “I’m the Führer’s daughter.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Someone obviously wanted me to see this and I’m not leaving until I do.” She furrowed her brow, then opened the letter.

  Because you are destined to know

  CHAPTER THREE

  SHE STARED AT THE BOX beneath the envelope for a moment. Ornate markings adorned the lacquered surface, its edge inlaid with ebony and Mother of Pearl purfling. Constructed out of cherry wood, it was almost a third of a square meter, and about twelve centimeters deep.

  And fastened shut by a lock.

  Grace searched the envelope for the key.

  Nothing.

  She let out an exasperated breath. “How are we supposed to open it?”

  “Here, let me.” Freidrich took the box from her and began to wheedle the lock with his knife. After a brief strug
gle, the box clicked and the lock sprang free. “This is not a good idea.” He handed the box back to her.

  Mouth agape in mock apprehension, she turned to meet his eyes. “Maybe you’re right…we should probably get out of here and just leave the box.”

  Freidrich nodded and got up to leave.

  She gave his pant leg a sharp tug. “You do understand the concept of sarcasm, don’t you?”

  “But are you—?”

  “Of course I’m going to open this box. Somebody went through the pains to set this all up, there must be a reason they want me to see it. Haven’t you even one curious bone in your body?”

  “Oh, I’m curious. Just not enough to learn what will happen if I get caught in here.”

  Grace shrugged. “Here’s to your newfound sense of adventure,” she said, and opened the box.

  Within it lay several sealed envelopes along with some other small objects, the most intriguing of which an antique locket. To no avail, she tried to open it.

  “Maybe later.” She slipped it into her pocket.

  Sifting through the papers, she found a brown wallet. Cracked and frayed, the leather flaked off as she examined it. She opened it carefully only to find a few small photos tucked into the bill pouch.

  “Look at this.” She handed one of the photos to Freidrich. It was a picture of a man and a woman, huddling around what looked to be their baby.

  Freidrich took the picture and gave it a quick once over. Then he flipped the picture over.

  “Anything written on it?” Grace asked.

  He shook his head. “Blank.”

  “That’s helpful.”

  He pointed to the baby. “Any idea who that is?”

  “Not a clue.” She took the picture back. “Cute kid though.” She replaced the photos in the wallet and shoved it into her pocket.

  On to the envelopes.

  “What do you think is in them?” he said.

  “Who knows?” She ripped open a large envelope. “But if there are any answers inside, I’ve got to find them.”

  A stack of documents spilled out and landed facedown onto the floor in front of Freidrich. Before she could reach them, he grabbed them and turned them over.

  His mouth opened and a German expletive floated out.

  “What is it?” Grace tried to grab the papers away from him.

  But he pulled the pages close to his chest with one hand, and held out the other. “You don’t want to look at these.”

  “Well, now I must. Let me see,” she demanded, still trying to snatch the papers from him.

  After a few seconds, he relented. “All right. But remember, I tried to warn you.” He handed the pages to her.

  Only they weren’t pages—they were photographs, grainy black and whites. But the images rendered were clear enough to evoke a similar reaction from Grace.

  Horrified, she flipped through the pictures. If a colony of fire ants were crawling up her back and arms, it would be less disturbing. She let out a gasp. “What is this?”

  Freidrich offered no explanation. He just stood there, equally stunned.

  Grotesque images filled each print—mass graves, frail and bare bodies, people so emaciated their skin served only as a thin veil for their skeletons.

  Then the images grew darker. Pale and naked corpses, men, women and children lying dead—some of their chests riddled with gunshot wounds, some with necks gashed open. There were also bodies piled up like a garbage dump in huge ditches. The eyes of the corpses stared vacantly in the air.

  Grace struggled to keep her gaze on the photos, barely able to glance at them before flipping to the next one. In less than a minute, she was done.

  “What a dreadful scene,” she said. “Who would produce such a horrid movie?”

  “Movie?” Freidrich had torn into another packet of photos and was sifting through them.

  Things aren’t always as they seem, Miles used to say, when Grace was a little girl. On rainy days, he would tell her stories of an enchanted kingdom with talking animals and odd-looking people ruled by a ruthless king. Any subject who did not look like the king, would be banished or imprisoned.

  “What an awful place,” she once said. “The people should not stand to be ruled by such a king. If I were one of his subjects, I would make him treat everyone fairly.”

  Miles had smiled at her and patted her hand. “The world’s full of people like that, Miss Grace. I pray you never see that kind of cruelty for yourself, but people like that’s out there—and they’s closer than you think.”

  Memories of that conversation flooded her mind.

  Speaking in a somber tone, Freidrich broke the silence. “Look at this one.” He handed her a photo.

  Grace took one look and covered her mouth with her hand. With wide eyes, she regarded him. “Is that—?”

  “We should not be here,” he murmured.

  Shocked, she stared back at the photo which depicted a younger version of Father and Mother, both outfitted in military uniforms and standing proudly before myriad corpses.

  Anger burned in her innards, working its way up to her throat. “What kind of dreadful, contemptuous joke is this? Someone has clearly touched up this photo! It’s a tasteless, offensive insult.”

  “We should never have come here.” Friedrich gathered the photos in his hands, but kept staring at the exit. “Now, let’s go before someone sees us.”

  “My father…my parents…If they find the insubordinate fool who dare use digital manipulation to create such disgraceful—” Her voice broke. “They didn’t—No, they couldn’t have had anything to do with this!”

  Freidrich’s eyes shifted back and forth from the pictures to the door. “It’s a rebel ploy. Someone trying to stir up trouble.”

  Grace scrutinized his uniform. It bore the same distinct markings as those on Father’s in the picture. She pointed at the swastika on their arm bands. “You wear the same uniform; you know well that no one in our great country would ever do such horrific things.” One of Father’s foundational truths found its way to her lips. “We are a powerful and benevolent people!”

  “Grace, listen.” He straightened up and pulled her to her feet. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  She remained in a stupor until his entire body went rigid.

  Outside, the distant sound of guards yelling and their urgent footfalls echoed throughout the halls.

  “We’ve got to leave.” Freidrich urged her to the door. “They’re coming!”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “HIDE!” GRACE WHISPERED, trying to pull him away from the door. “Father won’t let them do anything to me. But you?”

  Jaw set, Friedrich wouldn’t yield. He couldn’t let her take the blame for this. “I should’ve never let you in here.”

  “Will you please stop arguing?” She pushed him toward the corner of the room. “Under that table—they won’t find you.”

  Instead, he stepped toward the middle of the library, his footfalls attracting the attention of the other guards, judging by their accelerated approach.

  This is what he got for paying more attention to the Führer’s daughter than was proper. So many pretty girls in the world, why couldn’t he keep his distance? And yet, there was something so special about her. Beyond the opulent mane, the piercing eyes, the adventurous naiveté, she possessed a free spirit he’d not otherwise known.

  Without another word, he opened the door and pushed her behind it.

  “Corporal!” A lieutenant and a pair of guards entered. The officer narrowed his eyes at Friedrich.

  “Corporal Freidrich von Becker, reporting.” He snapped to attention and shot out his right arm in salute. “Heil Drexler.”

  “Sieg heil.” The lieutenant returned the salute. “What are you doing in here? This library is restricted to all but the Führer.”

  “I was patrolling the floor and thought I heard someone inside. So naturally, I came to investigate.”

  “Secure the area,” the lieutenant
said to his guards, his voice morbidly calm. They spread out and began searching the room.

  After a few moments, one of the guards announced, “Clear!”

  “Sir!” the other guard called out. “You’ll want to see this.”

  Hands interlocked behind his back, the lieutenant strode methodically to the back of the room, directing Freidrich come with him. There, the papers, photos, and box lay scattered on the floor. “And what is this?”

  Friedrich’s throat went dry. “They appear to be documents, Sir.”

  “Highly classified documents,” the lieutenant said. “Everything in here is.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Without inclining his head even one degree, the officer looked down at the mess. “Is this your doing, Corporal?”

  “No, sir.”

  The lieutenant glanced at one of the guards and nodded to the documents.

  The guard pulled out a handheld device and shined its beam on the box.

  The lieutenant flashed a wicked grin at Friedrich. “If I find your fingerprints…”

  “Let me see that again,” Freidrich said. The other guard shoved the pictures at him and turned them over. “Maybe I did see those.”

  “What were you really doing back here, Corporal?”

  “As I said, I thought I heard someone in here.”

  “What part of restricted do you not understand?”

  “The door was open and—”

  “That will be all, Corporal Becker. Perhaps you will have better luck convincing the Führer.”

  His chest tightened at the thought, but Friedrich’s greater concern lay elsewhere. He glanced over the lieutenant’s shoulder to the door.

  Good.

  With feline stealth, Grace slipped out into the hallway undetected.

  #

  SHE KEPT RUNNING. Not out of fear of the guards, but because of the pictures. It just couldn’t be. Who would dare portray the noble Aryans, much less Mother and Father, as cruel mass murderers? Seeing those photos, fake though they were, made her feel tainted, ashamed, somehow. Finally, she reached the third floor. Chest rising and falling, she could barely breathe.