My Dearest Dietrich by Amanda Barratt

Author:Amanda Barratt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kregel, Incorporated
Published: 2019-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

March 11, 1943

Berlin

It looked like a pencil case, the kind boys put in a rucksack and take to school.

Strange that something so small, almost ordinary looking, could be used to obliterate tyranny.

Dietrich stared at the bomb on his vater’s desk, the study door closed and locked. Hans stood next to him.

“The British call it a clam. It’s of English make and doesn’t have any ticking or fuse.” Hans fingered the plastic edge, a suitcase lying beside it ready to take to the station.

Dietrich couldn’t tear his gaze away. “How does it detonate?”

“When Schlabrendorff is ready, he’ll press this button here.” Hans pointed. “A vial of corrosive chemicals will shatter. As the chemical eats away at the wire, the spring will activate and strike the detonator cap.” Hans said all this in the calm tone of a university lecturer, looking the part in a pressed gray suit and tie. Beneath his right eye, a muscle pulsed. An uncontrollable reaction revealing deeper anxieties.

“When does he intend to do it?”

“During the meeting, if he can safely. If not, he’ll try to smuggle it aboard the plane right before takeoff.” Hans carefully placed the items into the well-padded suitcase. Dietrich closed the lid. The latch snapped and clicked.

It was impossible not to imagine the situation. Hitler and his generals, sitting around, perhaps having lunch. Tresckow and Schlabrendorff, outwardly congenial, inwardly tense. There’d be final salutes, quick farewells. Hitler would board the plane. Feverishly, they’d work to smuggle the bomb aboard, disguised as an incongruous case of brandy. The doors would shut. As the propeller blades whirred, Tresckow and Schlabrendorff would watch the ascent, catching the last glimpse of Adolf Hitler before he combusted into a million pieces midair.

“We’ll need to get going if I’m to take you to the station.” Dietrich checked his watch. Almost time for the night train. They’d have to drive fast to get Hans there on schedule.

“You’re not coming.” Hans hefted the suitcase, spearing Dietrich with an unyielding look. “We shouldn’t be seen together in case someone’s tailing us.”

“It’s Vater’s car, but you can’t expect him to drive it.” It was already risky enough, using Karl Bonhoeffer’s official physician’s Mercedes on such an errand, though it would provide a good cover if they were stopped. But putting Vater behind the wheel when the vehicle carried an illegal explosive meant to assassinate the Führer was out of the question.

“Whom do you suggest?” Hans lifted a brow.

“Eberhard, perhaps? He hasn’t been in the Abwehr long enough to arouse suspicion.”

“Fine. I’ll go to the Schleichers’ and see if he’s available.” Hans started for the door.

“Wait.”

Hans swung around.

“Are you going to tell him what’s in it?”

“Of course not.” Hans shifted the suitcase, testing its weight. “He knows little enough, and it’s best to keep it that way. In case we’re stopped.”

It went without saying that if Hans and Eberhard were stopped and searched, found to be transporting a British-made explosive, the consequences would be extreme.

As if on impulse, Hans crossed back to Dietrich, his brother-in-law’s features steadfast in the lamplight.

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