فصل 50

florian

I held the paper, waiting to approach the checkpoint. I stared at the type.

Sonderausweis.

Special pass. It looked real. Perhaps my best work ever. The soldier on the road didn’t question. He saluted me for the special mission that the pass defined. My attitude had to match the level of the forgery. If I appeared confident, they wouldn’t inspect. But if Dr. Lange had discovered the missing piece, he may have wired ahead. If so, they would be waiting for me. My confidence would hold no currency.

I looked at the ledger in front of the soldier. Did the book include an arrest order for treason? I had used my real name on the pass. There wasn’t time to forge new identity papers.

It had started as a dare. My friend Kurt wanted to attend a soccer match with the rest of our group, but all tickets had been sold. “Come on, Beck, use those skills to create some tickets,” chided Kurt. I accepted the challenge. Using a friend’s ticket and restoration supplies, I forged a couple.

“I guess we’ll need your special tickets for the finals,” Kurt joked on our way home. But we didn’t make it to the finals. Kurt was a few years older than I and was drafted. At Christmas, I went to visit his mother. She opened the door dressed in black, her eyes pillowed and heavy with grief. Kurt had died in service, an honorable death.

If I died, who would say the same of me?

• • •

The woman in front of me left the table. I was finally alone, no longer burdened by the young Pole and the pretty nurse. I approached the soldier with an air of superiority and thrust out my papers. “I need to cross now.”

“No one’s crossing now. Unless you want a cold bath,” said the soldier as he opened my papers. He read the special pass and looked up at me. He lowered his voice.

“My apologies, Herr Beck. I can get you across first thing tomorrow morning.” He logged my details in the registration ledger. “We can find lodging for you this evening here in Frauenberg,” he said.

“No, I have arrangements,” I told him. I didn’t need any eyes on me.

“You may cross in the morning, then. As long as there aren’t any further attacks. Heil Hitler!” he said.

“Heil Hitler,” I responded, swallowing the bile that rose when I spoke the phrase.