Soul Intent Read online

  Soon she and her fairy godmother will be safe in a new castle. Soon her knight captain will become a general, and soon he and the princess will live happily ever after.

  twenty-five

  October 1946

  Nuremberg, Occupied Germany

  The young lady opened the basement apartment door and rubbed her eyes. “Bitte?”

  Flora thought the girl was quite pretty, even with her tousled hair, bleary eyes, and patched nightgown at five in the morning. She smiled at her. “You are Helga Brunne?”

  The girl nodded and yawned.

  “You are an acquaintance of Private Steven Lee?”

  That seemed to wake her up. “I am his friend,” she said with a subtle emphasis on the last word.

  Flora already knew this from the impressive research James had done before he got hurt. Now for the tricky part. “I have a message and a package for you from Private Lee,” she said. “He would have delivered them himself, but he had to leave the city an hour ago on a secret mission.”

  “He left Nuremberg?” Helga’s face filled with worry.

  “Ja. An emergency prisoner escort.”

  “But he was meeting me here for lunch.”

  “That is correct,” Flora said briskly. “And Private Lee sent me here to tell you he will not be able to come.”

  “Sent you?” Helga’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I trust you?”

  It was a good question. James’s papers told Flora that eighteen-year-old Helga Brunne was Lee’s girlfriend. Apparently Lee passed on cigarettes, candy, and other Army “extras” to Helga, who sold them on the black market to feed herself and her grandmother. Flora knew that if she were Helga, she’d also be suspicious of anybody threatening her welfare.

  And this was why Flora had brought the envelope. She held it out. “Do not trust me, fraulein. Trust the package he left for you.”

  Helga took the envelope and pulled out a wad of bills. She whisked the money into her bathrobe pocket, and then pulled some papers out of the envelope. She unfolded and read them. “These are train tickets?”

  “Ja. The US Military transport. Private Lee wishes you and your grandmother to await his arrival in Paris. You will also find a voucher for two nights at the Hotel du Nord. The two hundred American dollars is your extra spending money while you wait for him.”

  Helga stuffed the tickets back in the envelope. “He wants us in Paris?”

  Flora smiled. “Paris. Now hurry and get you and your grandmother ready. The train leaves at seven this morning.”

  Helga’s face fell. “My grandmother has sprained her ankle, and she cannot travel.”

  If Flora didn’t get rid of both Helga and her grandmother for the next few days, the plan to reach Goering would fail. “Can I help you bring her to the hauptbahnhof?”

  Helga shook her head. “She cannot walk at all. Not even to the toilet—I have to bring her a bucket.” She looked at Flora. “I am sorry, but please tell Steven I cannot come to Paris.”

  Cannot come to Paris! For a moment Flora fought to breathe as despair squeezed her chest.

  But then images of James tumbled through her head: James driving the Jeep, turning his head to smile at her. James patting her cheek. James blushing after she kissed him. And finally, James in the clearing, declaring “I will not leave you here to die.”

  If she could just fulfill James’s plan, her bouts of guilt might subside. James had identified what it would take to turn Private Steven Lee into Soul Identity’s new conduit with Hermann Goering. How dare this silly little German girl stand in the way?

  Flora snatched the envelope out of Helga’s hands. “Very well. I will convey your reply to him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Helga called as Flora headed to the stairway.

  Flora turned back and smiled and said in a breathy voice, “It’s no problem at all. I am happy to go in your place. I’ve always wanted to go to Paris, and seeing it on the arm of your handsome GI will be wunderbar.”

  “You’ll go in my place?” Helga’s voice was barely audible.

  Flora smiled. “Naturally. My own American went home to his wife last month, and I’ve been looking for another. Private Lee seems almost perfect.” She turned to go.

  “Wait!”

  Flora turned back.

  “Why did Steven send you?”

  “I work the ticket counter at the hauptbahnhof. Your soldier was quite distraught a few hours ago. He was thrilled when I offered to deliver his package to you.”

  Flora could see that Helga was almost there, and she pressed on. “It’s a shame you can’t come, but one girl’s loss is another girl’s gain, nein?”

  She stood on the platform and waved. Two soldiers had just carried Helga’s protesting grandmother into the car. The train whistled, the wheels began to turn, and in another minute, Helga and her grandmother were on their way to Paris.

  Giving Flora three whole days to seduce Private Steven Lee and open an alternative conduit to Goering.

  twenty-six

  October 1946

  Nuremberg, Occupied Germany

  James turned his head as Flora opened the door. He lay on the bed, feet raised in a tangle of stirrups, weights, and pulleys. A white bandage wrapped his head.

  Flora winced as she looked at him. The doctors said that she had broken both of James’s ankles and one of his hips as she dragged him through the forest and back to the Jeep. That was on top of the head wounds he received from the Nazis.

  James smiled at her.

  “Did I wake you up?” she asked, still in the doorway.

  He shook his head. “Just waiting for the end of the line, ma’am. Soon we’ll be off.”

  She slumped against the door frame. So James was still busy playing conductor on the locomotive in his head. Archibald said he might never recover.

  Archibald—she’d been mentally referring to him that way since she drugged him and he told her how he felt.

  But Flora wasn’t here to examine her feelings for the overseer. She walked over to the bed. “James, do you know who I am?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Of course. You’re one of my special passengers. Where’s a nice girl like you going, anyway?”

  “I’m not your passenger, James.”

  He closed his eyes for a minute.

  Flora waited.

  Finally he asked, “Do you work here too?”

  “I do.”

  He nodded and opened his eyes. “Then what can I do for you, pretty lady?”

  She pulled out his research and plans which Archibald had given her. “Do you remember writing these?” she asked him.

  He took the papers, glanced at each of them, and shook his head. “It looks like my writing,” he said, “but it can’t be. I’ve never been to Germany in my life.” He handed the pages back. “Sorry, hon.”

  “James, you have to remember. I need your help!” Flora’s voice was sharp. The plans he had assembled shocked her, and she wanted a confirmation for what he had planned for her to do.

  He shrank back into his bed. “There’s no need to get mad at me, ma’am. You could file a complaint with the office—maybe they could help you.”

  She sighed and sat down in the chair next to him. “No, I’m sorry for getting upset. I’m just very lonely—I lost my friend last week, and I can’t seem to find him anywhere.”

  He looked at her. “In these dark days of depression, many people have suffered big losses, and we all seem to get upset easily. But don’t worry, little lady—soon we’ll reach the end of the line. Mark my word—better days are coming!”

  She nodded. “I really hope you’re right.”

  She sat next to him for the next half hour and watched James as he alternated between examining his fingernails and looking out the window. Her fears dissipated, but the overwhelming sense of guilt for the pain she had caused him remained.

  She stood up and wiped her eyes. Enough time spent mourning what could have been. No matter how shocking, no matter how unsavo
ry, she would do what James had planned and finish this mission. Hopefully it would begin to make up for the damage she had caused him.

  He glanced at her. “We’re almost at the station, hon. You only need to hold on for a little longer.”

  She smiled through a fresh set of tears. “Thank you, James. I’ll try.”

  twenty-seven

  October 1946

  Nuremberg, Occupied Germany

  Flora watched the soldier’s white helmet descend toward the Brunnes’s basement apartment. A minute later she watched it come back up.

  The helmet crowned a frowning American face. Private Steven Lee must be wondering where his girlfriend had gone. Maybe he was even a little worried—how could Helga’s crippled grandmother have left?

  Time to strike. Flora set her path to intersect with his in the middle of the street. As she got close, she looked directly in the soldier’s eyes and flashed him a big smile.

  James had noted that Private Steven Lee had a special thing for pretty brunettes. It seemed he was right; the soldier stopped in front of her, looked her up and down, and grinned.

  “Do you speak English?” he asked.

  “Of course I do,” she said in her most cultured voice. “Did you steal that white helmet?”

  His grin was replaced by a frown. “Of course not.”

  She gazed right into his eyes, then looked down at the ground. “They told us monsters guarded the Nazis, but you look like a movie star to me.”

  She heard him chuckle. “Twenty-sixth regiment honor guard, ma’am. I’m with the prisoners every day.”

  She looked up and caught him admiring her figure. When his gaze made it back up to her eyes, she asked, “And you stayed so handsome and happy? How did you do it?” She took a tiny step closer.

  He blushed. “It is a tough job, but I had some help from my girl, Helga.” He glanced back at the basement apartment.

  Flora nodded. “Of course.” She stuck out her hand. “It was nice to meet you, Private…”

  “Lee. Steven Lee.” He took her hand in his.

  “I’m Mona.” She let her fingertips flutter against his wrist ever so slightly.

  He held onto her hand and cleared his throat. “I have a couple hours before my shift starts—would you like to have lunch with me, Mona?”

  She tossed her head in the direction of the apartment. “What would Helga say?”

  He shrugged. “She’s not home, and I’m hungry.”

  Flora pretended to think for a moment, and then grabbed his arm. “I suppose I could have lunch with you.”

  It was the first time either of them had been inside the Grand Hotel—Flora’s press pass had gotten them past the suspicious American guards. She was careful to hide her real name on the pass from Lee.

  The club echoed with laughter—something Flora hadn’t experienced in a public place since she was a little girl. Before the war.

  “You are a reporter?” Lee asked in what she thought was a faintly accusing tone.

  She shook her head. “I am a photographer.”

  “Have you been inside the prison?”

  She nodded. “Once. Your Colonel Andrus let me in to take a picture of Hermann Goering.” She leaned forward in her chair. “But enough about me. Now the trial is over, do you still have guard duty?”

  He smiled. “I do. Two four-hour shifts every day.”

  “Tell me what it’s like, guarding them.”

  “They’ve gone quiet, I guess, now they’ve been convicted.” He shrugged. “But just a week ago, it was a whole different story. Goering was strutting around, trying to rally the military men. Speer was sitting with the apologists, moaning about how evil they were, and how they needed to be punished. Now all of them sit in their cells, meet with their priests, and write letters. Lots of letters.”

  For the rest of the meal, Flora sat and listened to Lee’s descriptions of families visiting the condemned, and her mind wandered to her own visit with Goering. She hoped the Nazi’s every day had turned into a hellish nightmare—death was too good for him.

  The bill came, and after Lee paid, he stared at her. “Did you hear anything I said?”

  She smiled. “Private Lee, you have treated me to a wonderful meal at the grandest hotel in town, and you regaled me with amazing stories. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world, escorted by a handsome American soldier.”

  “Are you crazy?” He pointed around the room. “All these newspaper reporters and radiomen—the swaggering French, the debonair English, the brooding Russians—you could have your pick of anybody in this room.”

  She took a look around and pretended to consider what he said. Then she smiled at him. “But you’re a special guard who is part of history. Why would I choose to be with somebody who only reports on the things you see and do every single day?”

  He smiled, and Flora knew she had him.

  They walked out of the Grand Hotel, Flora holding onto Lee’s arm. “So how do I know you’re really a guard?” she asked him.

  He pulled a picture from his pocket. “Take a look at this. Autographed by von Schirach, just today.”

  She looked at the picture of the former Hitler Youth leader. “They autograph their photographs for you?”

  “They do. Then I usually give them to…” his voice trailed off.

  “Helga,” she finished for him. “So she can sell them and help feed her family.”

  He nodded. “How did you know?” he asked.

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You are a very noble man, Private Steven Lee.”

  “You think so?” He looked worried.

  “I do.” She squeezed his arm. “But even noble men need some excitement in their lives. What time does your next four-hour shift end?”

  That evening, as Flora waited for Lee to meet her, she finally confronted her feelings on whether it was right to use the soldier to get her way.

  She knew precisely what Baba would say: it was wrong, under any circumstance.

  But Baba also read Goering’s identity, knowing it would legitimize his theft and allow his memories to survive. She had compromised on her own principles to get herself and Flora to America.

  Archibald had blamed Flora for hurting James and destroying the communications link with Goering. He had threatened to renege on his deal with Baba. Going along with James’s plan was the price he was charging Flora for redemption.

  And the price was high: to reach Goering, she would sacrifice a precious piece of herself. Sex was new territory for Flora, and she was afraid.

  At least she had no fear of falling in love with him. Private Steven Lee was cheating on his girlfriend, after all. He was using Flora as much as she was using him.

  She saw Lee striding her way, whistling. “Hello, Mona,” he said when he reached her.

  She smiled. “I was hoping you weren’t too scared to see me again.”

  “Should I be scared?”

  “Terrified.” She only hoped her own fear wasn’t noticeable. She slipped her arm through his as they walked down the street. “What do you have planned for us tonight?”

  He stopped and looked at her. “You said something about excitement.”

  She gave his arm a little squeeze. “I did. But first I have something to show you.”

  They reached the Gooseherder’s Fountain and sat at its base. Flora pulled a gold fountain pen out of her bag. “I was given this pen by Hermann Goering,” she said. “He told me it was a Pelikan 100 with special Toledo engraving.”

  His eyes widened. “Goering gave this to you?”

  She nodded. “After I took his picture. He said I was the prettiest, most efficient photographer he ever met.” She sighed. “But now his lawyer, Dr. Stahmer, says I stole it, and I need to give it back.”

  “And if you don’t?” He held the pen in the air.

  “He’ll report me, and I’ll get thrown out of my apartment.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “But you could help me, Private Lee.”

 
“You want me to talk to his lawyer?”

  She shook her head. “I think if I could get Herr Goering to say it belonged to me, all would be good.”

  “How would he do that?” Lee was staring at her.

  She shrugged. “He could write something to prove it was a gift. Here, I’ll show you.” Flora took the fountain pen and pulled off the black rubber bottom cover. She removed two sheets of paper wrapped around the piston.

  The soldier read from the first paper, “I hereby grant the bearer of this note ownership in all my property they have in their possession. I certify nobody else has any claims on this property.”

  Flora pointed at a line on the bottom. “He needs to sign right there, and put the date after it.”

  Private Lee nodded. “What about this paper?” Again he read it out loud. “The overseer has been most efficient and useful, and is to be commended.”

  “That’s me,” she said. “Something I can show my boss and maybe even get promoted.”

  “Overseer?” Lee asked.

  Flora pretended to study the writing. “I may have garbled the words,” she said. “Directly translated from German, it means professional photographer.” She held her breath and hoped the soldier would buy it.

  He nodded and handed the pages back.

  She wrapped them around the piston, pushed it into the bottom, and gave him the pen. “So you can help me?”

  He looked at her with solemn eyes. “You’re asking me to do something illegal.”

  Uh oh. She tried a smile. “But it is exciting, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But still, it’s a big risk, and I could get into deep trouble.” He looked down at the ground and cleared his throat. “What kind of excitement will you give me in return?”

  Late that night, Flora made her way back to the Soul Identity house. She went to the washroom and scrubbed her hands and lips and breasts and genitals until her skin was raw. She crept to her room before anybody could see her, limping slightly from a newly-felt pain between her legs.

  As she lay in bed and thought about what she had done with Private Lee, she worked to summon up outrage at the overseer for forcing her into this humiliating situation. But try as she might, she found she couldn’t be angry with Archibald. In fact, she closed her eyes and imagined it had been him kissing and stroking and entering her body.