Winfred

90

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

Seeing Schwab again triggered a bit of anxiety within me. Being around the man who had caused me and my fellow prisoners so much pain was strange. When I looked at him, I felt nothing but intense loathing.

I played my part, however.

I found myself comparing Heinrich Schwab and Freidrich Von Steubon. Where Freidrich was neat, Heinrich was messy…in all ways. I could hardly read his handwriting, he quickly turned Freidrich’s desk into an unnavigable surface, he tracked mud in on his boots, and, whenever he felt the need to have a drink, as the German soldiers do occasionally, he left the bottles lying around. Freidrich’s writing was neat and legible, his desk was always put to rights, and, when he did have an occasional beer, he had it in a clean glass, which he returned to the kitchen when he was finished.

Aside from that, Schwab seemed to be taking his new status as temporary acting officer a bit too seriously. He was harsh and bossy. He gave me as much work as he possibly could, and the difference between him and Freidrich in the amount of things they gave me to do was vastly different. Where Freidrich was quiet and diligent at his work, Schwab was loud and preferred to leave as much of the work to me as he could. He brought in a radio and sang loudly (and badly) along with it. He spoke loudly, almost as though he were half-yelling.

I hated him. But I had to know about Freidrich.

So I kept at it, waking up every day and working for Schwab. The hours were long, and by the end of each day I had a tension headache and my back was sore from the stiff posture I adopted when sitting behind the desk.

Near the end of my time with Schwab, I had not found out anything whatsoever. One night, when he left, he gave me orders to stay and go over the reports from the guards. Then he left, off to have a drink with his friends or to go to sleep; I wasn’t sure which.

When he was gone, I shut the outer office door and cautiously entered the inner office.

Schwab left everything on Freidrich’s desk. I hoped to find something. Part of me felt guilty. Part of me was reminded of the spy work I did before my capture and the events that led to my current position.

Part of me hesitated to open the envelope I found that bore Schwab’s name.