Winfred

47

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

I was reawakened by someone shaking my shoulder.

“Ilsa!”

I opened my eyes with a start, a leather gloved hand coming into view.

Upon noticing that I had awakened, the person drew their hand back.

“What, exactly, are you doing here at this hour of the night?”

The words were German, and, as I looked up, rather ashamed, my blurry vision cleared enough to make out Von Steubon.

I apologized quickly, stuttering a bit.

Von Steubon was frowning, as seemed to be his usual expression. He was in full dress uniform, but the outfit lacked the sort of luster that he usually gave it. He seemed tired, his posture slightly slumped.

I felt guilty. He probably did not want to see anyone at this hour of the night, let alone the person he had helped to save from prison.

As my state of awareness increased, I realized that, in one hand, he was holding a wet washcloth.

Upon examining him, I realized its purpose was, most likely, to sooth the cut on his forehead, right above his eyebrow.

“Well?” he prompted me, once more, reminding me that he had asked me a question.

“I…couldn’t sleep…” I told him, looking at the ground. I looked up just enough to see his expression. His gaze had gone to the book I had fallen asleep on, its pages slightly wrinkled.

“S-sorry…” I said. “You weren’t here earlier, so I didn’t have anything to do…”

He closed his eyes and held up a hand, halting my explanation.

I closed the book and made an effort to hand it back to him, but he shook his head. "Keep it; finish."

I drew the book back to my chest as he turned his back on me and went to his office, opening his door with the hand that wasn’t holding the washcloth.

After a few moments of hesitation, I followed him, standing hesitantly in the doorway.

He took off his uniform cap and glanced at me as he set it down on his desk. “Yes? Is there something you want?” he asked, sounding a bit impatient.

“I just wondered…are you alright?”

He laughed shortly. “‘Alright’ is a relative concept.”

“What happened?” I asked, gesturing to the spot above my eyebrow on my own face.

A look of displeasure crossed his face, only to be replaced with exhaustion, as he slumped down in the armchair behind his desk.

He seemed to hope that I would give up and leave, but I waited, and he eventually sighed heavily and shook his head.

“Everyone has their own set of superiors to please, even officers.”

I thought about that. I pictured the whole German army, from the lowest of the lows, to officers, Captains like Von Steubon, all the way to the highest generals. In the military hierarchy, everyone had someone to answer to. For the higher ups, it was just a step up the hierarchical ladder.

I thought about Hitler, sitting atop it all, responsible to know one, answering to no man.

I thought that was entirely unfair, and ridiculous, that Hitler should have that much power for himself to change the lives of people under him for better or for worse, and I told Von Steubon so.

He simply shook his head, absentmindedly fiddling with one of the fountain pens on his desk as he spoke. “Even the most powerful men on the earth die and face judgment day.”

He didn’t speak after that, and I just stood there in the doorway for a moment.

Finally, he seemed to remember that I was there and he set the fountain pen down and looked up at me. “You should get to sleep.”

As I turned to go, I put two and two together about something. Von Steubon had been gone the day after that envelope turned up. Turning to Von Steubon, I asked, “That envelope from yesterday…Was it..."

He nodded. “My summons, yes.”

I nodded, in response, before turning and leaving Von Steubon’s office, shutting the door softly behind me.

I picked up the book and, cradling it to my chest, left the office entirely behind and made my way back upstairs to my top bunk, the snoring Pirot entirely oblivious to my reentering the room.