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By Root 1159 0

sneered. "Doch! Such a cause. How does it feel to be rejected by the entire German VolA?" She stirred in her chair at that, but couldn't quite bring herself "What's the matter, Petra, no heroic words now? You always talked about your visions of freedom and democracy, didn't you? Are you disappointed now that we have real democracy - and the people detest you and your kind! Tell me, Petra, what is it like to be rejected? Totally rejected. And you know it's true." the investigator added. "You know it's no joke. You watched the people in the street from your windows, didn't you, you and Gunther? One of the demonstrations was right under your apartment, wasn't it? What did you think while you watched, Petra? What did you and Gunther say to each other? Did you say it was a counter-revolutionary trick?" The detective shook his head, leaning forward to stare into those empty, lifeless eyes, enjoying his own work as she had done.

"Tell me, Petra, how do you explain the votes? Those were free elections. You know that, of course. Everything you stood for and worked for and murdered for - all a mistake, all for nothing. Well, it wasn't a total loss, was it? At least you got to make love to Wilhelm Manstein." The detective leaned back and lit a small cigar. He blew smoke up at the ceiling. "And now, Petra? I hope you enjoyed that little tryst, mein Schatz. You will never leave this prison alive. Never, Petra. No one will ever feel pity for you, not even when you're confined to a wheelchair. Oh, no. They'll remember your crimes and tell themselves to leave you here with all the other vicious beasts. There is no hope for you. You will die in this building, Petra."

Petra Hassler-Bock's head jerked at that. Her eyes went wide for an instant as she thought to say something, but stopped short.

The detective went on conversationally. "We lost track of Gunther, by the way. We nearly got him in Bulgaria - missed him by thirty hours. The Russians, you see, have been giving us their files on you and your friends. All those months you spent at those training camps. Well, in any case, Gunther is still on the run. In Lebanon, we think, probably holed up with your old friends in that ratpack. They're next," the detective told her. "The Americans, the Russians, the Israelis, they're cooperating now, didn't you hear? It's part of this treaty business. Isn't that wonderful? I think we'll get Gunther there with luck he'll fight back or do something really foolish, and we can bring you a picture of his body Pictures, that's right! I almost forgot!

"I have something to show you," the investigator announced. He inserted a video cassette into a player and switched on the TV. It took a moment for the picture to settle down into what was plainly an amateur video taken with a hand-held camera. It showed twin girls, dressed in matching pink dirndl outfits, sitting side by side on a typical rug in a typical German apartment - everything was fully in Ordnung, even the magazines on the table were squared off. Then the action started.

"Komm, Erika, Komm, Ursel!" a woman's voice urged, and both infants pulled themselves up on a coffee table and tottered towards her. The camera followed their halting, unstable steps into the woman's arms.

"Mutti, Mutti!" they both said. The detective switched the TV off.

"They're talking and walking. Ist das nicht wunder-bai! Their new mother loves them very much, Petra. Well, I thought you'd like to see that. That's all for today." The detective pressed a hidden button, and a guard appeared to take the manacled prisoner back to her cell.

The cell was stark, a cubicle made of white-painted bricks. There was no outside window, and the door was of solid steel except for a spyhole and a slot for food trays. Petra didn't know about the TV camera that looked through what seemed to be yet another brick near the ceiling, but was really a small plastic panel transparent to red and infrared light. Petra Hassler-Bock retained her composure all the way to the cell, and until the door was slammed shut behind her.

Then