Greg Iles - Black Cross

Anna laid her hand on his chest as if to thank him, then straightened up and went to the sideboard and lit three short candles. It was easy to forget that the electric light could draw unwanted attention. “Schörner really called me to the camp so he could question me,” she said. “He thinks someone on the camp staff is a traitor, either a nurse or a lab technician. It’s Sturm who is pressing for the execution of prisoners — his way of rooting out the leak.”

When Anna went to the stove to brew a pot of the awful barley coffee, McConnell decided she was all right, at least for the moment. He turned one of the chairs around and sat with his forearms resting on its back, the way the old guys did on porches back home. “Listen, Stern,” he said quietly, “God knows I didn’t come here to kill innocent people. But the things I’ve learned since I’ve been here . . . I’m starting to understand why the British tried this crazy bluff. We tried to save the prisoners. We did everything we could. Hell, two good men died trying to help us. But we’ve got to face facts now. We failed. We failed, and there’s nothing to do but go back to the original plan.”

Stern looked furtively around the kitchen. “I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“What do you want to do? Run for the coast? Go for the sub and leave this Nazi death machine ticking along like a Swiss watch?”

Stern actually seemed to be considering this. “You want a sample of Soman, Doctor? I can get you one tonight. I’ll walk right into that factory and draw off a canister myself. Get me one of the mini-cylinders out of your bag.”

McConnell turned up his palms in confusion. “What the hell is going on here, Stern? You know that isn’t the main objective of this mission. We’re supposed to convince the Germans that we have our own nerve gas and the will to use it.”

Stern dropped his Schmeisser on the counter and sat down at the table. “Do you have the will to use it, Doctor? Do you have the will to kill every man, woman, and child in that camp?”

“God help me, I think I do,” McConnell said, thinking of Anna’s diary. “Until last night, I don’t think I really believed the Nazis would use Sarin or Soman. But now . . . there’s no doubt in my mind. You think I like admitting Smith is right? He’s a devious, manipulative son of a bitch. But given what I know now, I believe this mission — or one like it — is probably the only chance of stopping the Nazis from using Sarin and Soman.”

“What’s turned you so bloodthirsty all of a sudden? Yesterday you were a goddamn pacifist. What’s in that diary, anyway?”

Anna turned from the stove, her eyes on McConnell.

“I showed it to him,” he confessed. “Stern, that diary describes something I never thought possible.”

“What? The systematic murder of thousands of Jews?”

“No. That’s bad enough, but it’s been done before. All through history, in fact. What’s different about what the Nazis are doing is that they’ve put the doctors in charge . They’ve succeeded in inverting human values so completely that they’ve transformed the healers into the chief killers.”

Stern made a wry face. “You think doctors killing people is somehow different than other men doing it?”

“Yes. A doctor is sworn to preserve life. Do no harm — that’s the first rule. A doctor who murders is worse than a priest who murders. Popes and priests have presided over some of the worst carnage in history. But intentional mass murder in the name of medicine? I’ve never heard of it before. Hitler’s propaganda machine has instilled a sort of bio-political mentality in the German people. He’s convinced them that certain races — yours, for example — are deadly bacilli that must be eradicated. There is apparently a whole generation of German doctors that actually believes it is healing the body politic by killing millions of people. You once lectured me about evil, Stern. Well, I’m convinced, okay? If there is pure evil in the world, the Nazis have achieved it.”

Stern’s laugh held bitter irony. “Words,” he said. “You’re an intellectual, so you have to draw some grand meaning from everything. What did I tell you the first time I saw you? The Nazis understand the true nature of man. They deal with what is . They took the lust for power and turned it into a religion. And it works! It could work anywhere, Doctor, even in America. I’ll bet some of your colleagues would line up for the chance to say who should live and who should die. It’s fun playing God.”

“No it isn’t, Stern. You know that. But I’m afraid we’ve got to do it tonight.”

When Stern did not respond, McConnell said, “Hitler hasn’t unleashed man’s true nature. He’s taken such a huge leap into madness that even now no one has begun to grasp what’s really going on. But we know, Stern. And that obligates us to try to do something about it.”

“But you said the British nerve gas won’t even work!”

“It might work. We have to try.”

Stern threw up his hands. “Go ahead then! You try!”

“I will if I have to. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on here? You came to Germany ready to sacrifice yourself and anyone else to accomplish this mission. Now you’re balking. For the last two days you’ve been ready to believe the gas worked. Now you’re not. Something changed last night, Jonas. What was it? What are you keeping from me?”

“You’re crazy,” snapped Stern. He got up and started pacing the kitchen, the muscles in his forearms taut as wires.

“Maybe I am,” McConnell conceded. “But I’ll be less crazy if you just tell me why you won’t go through with the attack.”

“Tell him,” Anna said from the stove. “Or I will.”

Stern stopped dead and stared at her. After a moment, his eyes glazed with hatred. “You tell him and I’ll kill you.”

“You go to hell!” she shouted, fearless in her anger. “Or act like a man! That would be better!”

Something seemed to go out of Stern then. Hope, maybe, or the will to keep lying. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the sideboard, blocking the light from one of the candles.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

Anna’s voice softened. “The night you got here, you said you were from Rostock. When I heard your real name I thought of the shoemaker, just for an instant. But you were so different—”

“Different how? What do you know about him?”

“Well . . . he repairs boots for the SS. Makes leather goods for them.”

“Are you saying he’s a collaborator?”

“No. Just that you seemed so different from him. Different enough that I dismissed the idea for a while. But yesterday I saw him up close again. Then I knew.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” McConnell asked. “You know somebody in that camp?”

“My father,” Stern said, his voice almost inaudible. “My father is a prisoner in the camp, okay? He’s been there for three years.”

McConnell looked at Anna and saw the confirmation in her eyes. “Jesus, why didn’t you tell me before now? All you had to do—”

Stern held up a hand for silence. “I have discovered that I’m a coward, Doctor. Not a pleasant thing. You were right, I was ready to sacrifice them all. Then I found out my father was one of the prisoners and I couldn’t do it. It’s pathetic.”

“It’s human, Stern.”

“You are also right,” Stern said to Anna. “He and I are different. But it is my duty to try to save him. For my mother.”

“For yourself, goddamn it!” said McConnell. “Why don’t you just slip in and take him out tonight? I have no doubt you could do it.”