CapturedbytheSS Read Free Page B

fingers press even harder into my wrist. A subtle smile tugs at the
corners of his mouth.
    “Since Ireland became a German nation in 1952, a young woman
like you should have grown up speaking the language, but I can tell you didn’t.
I can tell you grew up speaking English.”
    I know I’m losing control of the situation, but I’m not
without some pushback. English is still spoken in pockets of rural Ireland,
which is precisely why I chose to use an Irish accent. The empire hasn’t
completely eradicated the language. Trying not to panic, I scramble for a lie.
“My family was very poor and lived in the country. I didn’t go to any imperial
schools. I was homeschooled. My parents spoke English. I learned German later
at the university.”
    His head tilts slightly. “You’re very clever. Whenever I
think I have you cornered, you manage to tell me another lie.”
    “I’m not lying.”
    His fingers squeeze my wrist. “Your pulse tells me
otherwise.”
    “I’m nervous. I’m a nonnative citizen from Ireland caught
within Berlin city limits.” I pour as much conviction in that statement as
possible. I want him to believe it. Oh God, please, just let him believe it.
“I’m nervous about receiving a citation for breaking the law.”
    “No, you’re not from Ireland. Your pronunciation isn’t quite
right, though it’s very close.”
    His conviction shatters any lingering confidence I have. SS
officers are notorious for being expert linguists. I try to look annoyed, but I
think my expression more closely resembles fear. I can feel my façade slipping.
    “There’s a distinct slant to your words that’s unique to
America. You hide it well, but it’s slipped out more and more as we’ve talked.
Whoever taught you German did a superb job, and your Irish accent was
brilliant. You knew your pronunciation would never slide by an SS officer, so
you tried to hide your true country of origin.”
    “I told you… I didn’t go to any imperial schools. I learned
German later. I’m just a nonnative, that’s all.” My words are more of a plea, I
know. Hell, I think I even forgot to muddy my statements with the Irish accent.
I might as well have just said it in English because we’re way past deceit at
this point.
    “No. You, my dear,are an American,” he
declares in English. “I heard it in your words when we first started talking.
And your pulse quickened and slowed in all the wrong places, which meant you
were lying to me.”
    Though heavy with a German accent, his English is perfect.
It surprises me that he knows English, though I guess it shouldn’t. He is a
linguist after all. He’s probably even fluent in the phased-out languages as
well.
    I know I’m losing this battle, but I absolutely refuse to
give up. At this point, he’ll assume I’m working for American intelligence,
which I am, but maybe I can convince him I’m just a foolish civilian.
    I have no idea why, but sometimes, civilians do really stupid things…such as sneak across borders and travel to known German territories.
As a result, they usually get themselves in all kinds of trouble…like getting
shipped in several bloody boxes to the US embassy in Canada.
    If he thinks I’m a tourist, he might just kill me instead of
bothering with an interrogation. “I just wanted to see Germany,” I state in
English. “I was only sight-seeing.”
    His eyes narrow coldly at me. “You are far too clever under
questioning to be a civilian. Now stop lying to me. You’re working for American
intelligence.”
    Not certain what else to say, I glance away from him. I
don’t like defeat.
    “I’ve never had an American spy use another accent like
that. Choosing Irish was smart too since English is still spoken in parts of
the country.” Again, he says it in English, but he sounds as if he’s talking
more to himself than to me. “There’s something different about you.”
    He finally releases my wrist before retrieving his gloves
and then slowly pulling