Panzerfaust

Chapter 35 - Enough

July 10th, 1945, Berlin, Greater German Reich

'I still don't like the iron level in your blood. Do you even eat any red meat, like I recommended?'

Dr. Karl Brandt sets the chart aside finishing up the mandatory checkup as Sophia Skorzeny absentmindedly runs her fingers through her new hair while buttoning up her silk dress, sitting on the crispy white exam bed in the University Clinic of Berlin. 

'But I like the haircut. Sharp and elegant.'

Cutting her blonde locks chin length was a huge decision - but pregnancy hormones were wrecking havoc on her body in places she would have never guessed. Better to have a healthy bob than mermaid locks with the texture of a broom.

Call it vanity or whatnot - Sophia payed extra attention to her appearance - new wardrobe, new haircut - without a care for costs. Who am I trying to be pretty for other than myself? 

'It was too dry, I had to cut it short.' 

'And not because Heydrich placed the barrel of a gun against your locks.'

She stops buttoning up her dress, fingers frozen in motion. 'How do you know about that?'

'I'm the court physician, after all. You're not my only important patient.'

'Who told you that?' She presses on, not satisfied with his alluding answer. 'Heydrich?'

'No and even if it was him, I would not tell you.'

'Patient's privacy, huh?' She stands up from the bed, seizing up the man sitting prim in his chair. 

'Yes. I do not talk about my patients; not even to my other patients.' 

'But you just said Heydrich isn't your patient.'

'Clever, Frau Skorzeny. Clever and observant.' The doctor's lips curving upward is the only sign of his amusement, the rest of his prim face remains unmoved. 'But no, Oberst Heydrich isn't one of my patients. I treat my patients - and there is no known cure for cruelty.'

He leads her through the hospital corridors towards the exit when they pass a gurney before a ward's door - a pale face of a soldier watching with beady eyes as the blood from the bag above his head drips into the intravenous catheter in his arm, tied with leather binds preventing him from tearing it out.

'Is it common in your practice?' Sophia matches her steps to the long footed doctor, inquiring in a low voice. 'For soldiers trying to commit suicide?'

'Trying is uncommon. They usually succeed for the first time.'  Blue grey eyes catch the gaze of hers, holding it captive in their intensity. 'I almost forgot you used to work as a nurse.'

'And how do you know about that as well?' She could not keep the resentment drip into her voice. 'Did someone from the Gestapo offered a glimpse at the Sophia Edelsheim folder?'

'You mentioned it in your column in Göbbels' paper; my wife Annie is a great fan. She reads out loud the pieces she likes the most for me.'

'That is so cute.. of her.' She recalls happier, simpler times when Otto used to tell her the manuevers of the Allgemeine SS and the Wehrmacht across the globe when he got home from a meeting from the Kanzlei; otherwise she could have never sucessfully navigated through the Eastern Front without getting discovered on the very first day. 

And then he had the nerve of getting mad of her for using that knowledge. 

'Dr Brandt!' She calls out as Erwin Gerwitz open the door of the waiting car on the street for her. Turning around, the physician faces her once again. 'I hate red meat. But if my baby needs it, I will eat it. Pass over my greetings to Frau Brandt, she has good taste - in journalism.' 

She arrives at home, still at the little apartment in Lennéstrasse, the construction and the furnishing ongoing on the villa; Sophia both dreaded and cherished the moving; Otto will have an easier time avoiding her in a bigger place, but at least she will have the garden for herself. 

'I'll tell him about what the doctor said. He must care about that.' She decides, then directs her steps towards Otto's office when she hears male voices from behind the half closed door, and recognizing three voices: one of Max Wünsche, an unknown man whom she cannot recognize and Jürgen Diehl, recently promoted to Lieutenant by Sturmbannführer Skorzeny, chatting up in their Aldermann's office while lounging on the soft couch. Slowing her steps into a cautious pace, she listens into their ongoing conversation with alert. 

'The Chef is by Recamier again?' Diehl asks, sighing and as she hears the click of a lighter then the stinking smell of tobacco. This bastard is smoking in my house.

'Ja, this is the only time he can go without worries; the wife is seeing her doctor now.' The unknown voice proclaims. 

'Wives, how meddling. Remind me to not to get married until I'm no longer interested in women.' 

'At least she's pretty.' Wünsche puts in, sloshing what she presumes is Otto's whiskey in his tumbler. 'I would not bail on a woman like that.' 

'The wife or Adele Recamier?' Diehl asks, laughing. 'Or both? I've known Chef Schmiss longer than you do, Wünsche. He is a man of great appetite and who can blame him? Pregnant women are not that pliant when it comes to...'

She opens the door with a dynamic movement and startling the chatting officers jumping to their feets in suprise.

'Where is my husband?' She asks and the men in the room look at each other, exchanging glances then start to speak at the same time.

'He is busy with Herr Kaltenbrunner, Frau Skorzeny.'

'He was called over to the Kanzlei, Madame.' 

'An exercise is taking too long.'

'You are all shit at lying.' Sophia does not even tries to hide the resentment in her voice. 'But I am sure my husband will appreciate the effort.'  

She glances at the hastily put out cigarette in the shell shaped tray with disgust. I bought that for him. 

'However, I do not. If you have no business with my husband, get out of my house.'

'Entschuldigung, Frau Skorzeny, we did not mean to...' Wünsche tries again until her shrill voice cuts through his embarassed mumbling.

'I said: GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!'

The scream alerts Greta in the kitchen and Erwin by the front of the house; both tucking in their heads into the room in worried hurry.

'My apologies I didn't wanted to startle anyone, the gentlemen were just leaving.' 

She opens the front door wide open then slams it behind the disappearing grey uniforms. 

You're a cold-hearted, clever bastard, Otto Skorzeny, do you know that? A girl with hazy thoughts swimming in her blonde head said once in a tub full of lavender bubbles and she wonders why she didn't listened to her.