The Austrian: Book Two Page 25
“Is that a normal reaction?” he addressed someone.
“He was hanging on a rope under the weight of his own body for thirteen minutes. What do you think?” a man replied, his voice sounding familiar.
I guessed that he was the same doctor who pricked my leg with morphine behind the scaffold’s curtain. That I still remembered quite well, the first shot at least, following his firm hand clasping around my handcuffed wrist and counting my pulse before he pricked me with a needle and muttered to me to stay still. The second time I barely noticed the shot at all; I’d almost lost all sensitivity in my arms and legs by then and was barely conscious, struggling from my last powers to take another breath. I still felt him patting my leg, muttering that it would all be over soon. After he injected me, I didn’t feel anything at all.
“I hope you didn’t lie to me about everything that you told me in your cell,” agent Foster said after I regained control of my breathing. I smiled and shook my head ‘no.’ “You better not. You have no idea what pains I went through to not only make believe that you were dead, but steal your body right from the crematorium. Good thing that Russians love their vodka so much so they couldn’t care less about the cremation process after the pictures of your dead bodies were taken. They started celebrating right outside the building, while we dressed you up in a uniform and dragged you out singing songs as well, pretending that you were one of our comrades, who couldn’t hold his liquor.”
I chuckled, or actually tried to, and immediately starting to cough again. Only now I noticed that I was indeed wearing an American Army uniform. I looked around the plane and gave agent Foster an inquisitive look.
“Going to Washington, son.”
I frowned slightly, tilting my head to one side.
“No, not New York.” It seemed that he understood me perfectly even without words. Or that he had studied me so well by now that he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Don’t push your luck. You’re technically dead, so you’ll stay dead, for everyone around except for a few people in the OSS. Understood?”
I looked away with a sly grin.
“Hey. What did I say? Don’t even think about it.”
I smiled wider.
“Ernst, no. You’re not going to New York to her. Not now, not never.”
I picked up a pad that lay next to him and started writing down the names and coordinates next to them. Bormann, Müller, Hitler. And then one last phrase, ‘I am still going to find her.’
The American read the note, smiled and shook his head.
“I know, you are.”
Note to the reader
All the characters, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional. The character of Ernst Kaltenbrunner, even though based on a real political figure, is also fictional. Some major facts, taken from the biography of the real Ernst Kaltenbrunner, are based on real events, however, they were also fictionalized by the author.
Short biography of the real Ernst Kaltenbrunner, who served as a prototype for the fictional character:
Ernst Kaltenbrunner (4 October 1903 – 16 October 1946) was an Austrian born senior official of Nazi Germany during World War II. An Obergruppenführer (general) in the Schutzstaffel (SS), between January 1943 and May 1945, he held the offices of the Chief of the Reichssicherheitshauptamt (RSHA, or Reich Main Security Office) and President of the ICPC, later to become Interpol. He was the highest-ranking member of the SS to face trial at the first Nuremberg Trials. He was found guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity and executed.
Thank you for reading the second book from “The Austrian” series. I hope you enjoyed it! If you liked the story, the author and all the people who worked on the book will really appreciate it if you leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads.
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If you want to hear the story of the mysterious Annalise, check out “The Girl From Berlin” series:
“The Girl From Berlin: Standartenführer’s Wife” (book 1)
“The Girl From Berlin: Gruppenführer’s Mistress” (book 2)
“The Girl From Berlin: War Criminal’s Widow” (book 3)