Official Report
British Intelligence
Code: 3986
Kathleen Winfred
June 10, 1944: fourteen days
The past several days were busy with cleanup.
Freidrich returned today.
After he had finished kicking Schwab out of his office, I went in to see him.
I threw my arms around him, and kissed him before pulling back and smiling. “You’re back!” I said, stupidly, joyfully.
He smiled and kissed me again, holding me tightly. His uniform jacket smelled different, evidence that he had been absent, in another place, for a time.
I told him about Albert being transferred, and about the bombing, filling him in on what had occurred in his absence.
“Did they…Do anything…” I asked, hesitantly, after a moment.
He shook his head. “Nothing this time. They decided to abuse me verbally, forgoing the physical torture for now. They wanted to see if, now that my uncle is gone, I might have somehow reverted back to their cause.” He sighed, frowning. “Their tolerance has almost run out, Kathleen,” he told me, his voice quiet and resigned.
“How much longer do we have?” I whispered.
“A week at the least…a month if we’re lucky…”
“That’s…so soon…” I said, my voice sounding panicked.
He gave me a sad smile. “It is, isn’t it?”
I shook my head. “I never want to say good bye to you, Freidrich.”
He cupped my cheek with one hand. “Then don’t,” he said. “When the time comes, don’t say the words.”
YOU ARE READING
Winfred
Historical FictionThe Women's Guard, The Soldier, The Nazi, The Spy. The Spy turned Prisoner. As they say, dead men (or women, as the case may be) tell no tales. But Kathleen Winfred isn't dead; she managed to escape. Now, the story of her capture by Nazis in occup...
