The Ultimate Secret Read Free Page A

and Ingo circled above the hotel, metal wings clanking as they beat at the air, steam escaping in short puffs and hisses from the engines on their harnesses, scanning the crowds below. They had a basic description of their target, but with most of the people below them wearing masks, he would be impossible to identify. Eventually, Otto pointed out the roof-top fire escape to Ingo, and then banked and swooped towards the third-floor window of the target’s hotel room, landing on the window-ledge and smashing in the glass with his boot.
    Adler was already in the room, Luger in hand, rummaging through a bureau. Unmoved by the noise, he glanced up, nodded perfunctorily and continued opening drawers.
    “We’re too late. He left earlier than expected. Search for any hint of his destination.”
    Otto dropped into the room, casting about. The bed had been slept in, although the maid should have been to the room hours before, and the door had been kicked in by Adler. A fire was built in the firegrate, but had not yet been lit. He held his hand out, but there was no heat. A large, striped box filled with crepe paper rested on a chair by the window. This had presumably held their target’s mask, which must have been large and elaborate; possibly both a mask and a hat. Otto held some of the crepe paper up to his nose. Oiled leather, perhaps?
    “A-ha.” Adler peered at the writing pad on the bureau.
    “Our man had a very firm hand, it seems.”
    He reached into his coat pocket for some charcoal, with which he very gently shaded the upper half of the sheet, holding it close to the desk lamp.
    “‘Under... Bruno.’ Does that mean anything to you?”
    “No, sir,” said Otto.
    “Under Bruno... Under Bruno...” Adler tapped the charcoal against his chin thoughtfully, then smiled, coldly. “Of course...”
    He wheeled on Otto. “Hartmann! Go get Ritter and head east. Keep me in sight. I have him.”
    He stormed out the door, his long black leather coat swirling out behind him.
     
     
    A USCHWITZ, O CCUPIED P OLAND, 1944
     
    “...A T LEAST FIVE hundred of them. I’d guess they normally kill a few score at a time, but these were packed in like sardines. Some of them resisted and were shot. There’s blood everywhere.” Ivan’s voice shook slightly. The last two guards he and Daria had encountered, in the furnaces, had... suffered, more than they’d needed to. More than their colleagues had, at any rate.
    Captain Ilyanov nodded, his face impassive, eyes reflecting the moonlight redly. “And the furnace?”
    “It’ll be impossible to count, even when it burns down; the ovens are hot enough to burn bone,” said Daria, more calmly. “But they seem to have overfilled them, too. There must be hundreds of bodies burning in there right now.”
    The captain was silent for a moment, before turning to the fourth member of their unit.
    “Katya, get over to the vehicle sheds. Find out if the Nazis were kind enough to leave us a working jeep or car. We need to get back to Russian lines quickly.”
    The small, red-haired woman nodded and ran off into the camp.
    “Why?” Ivan demanded, but the captain didn’t answer. He stepped in front of him. “What are we doing, Josef?”
    Ilyanov met his eyes, unblinking. He was two inches shorter than Ivan, with fine, fair hair and a neat goatee. His lips parted slightly, giving a hint of his fangs.
    “Firstly, Lieutenant,” he said, crisply, “you will address me as ‘Captain,’ or ‘Sir,’ at least as long as we are in the field. We are far from typical soldiers, but we should observe some discipline.
    “Secondly, you will show your commanding officer a modicum of respect, and of trust.”
    Ivan flushed angrily, but dropped his gaze and stepped back.
    “Of course, sir. Forgive me.”
    “It’s alright, Ivan. I understand. This must all have come as a shock to you.”
    Ivan’s eyes widened. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew what we would find.”
    Daria gasped, looking from Ivan