It was a cold Monday morning. Werner was driving along a newly built road somewhere in eastern Germany when he suddenly turned right, leaving the asphalt behind and entering a narrow dirt and gravel path.
He continued for several minutes, the trees on both sides flashing past as he picked up speed. Eventually he slowed down, spotting a small sentry post at the far end of the road.
He brought the car to a full stop before the wooden barrier.
Two men in SS uniforms stepped out of the tiny guard hut and approached his window. The moment they recognized his face, their posture snapped to rigid attention. They saluted sharply.
"Good day, Herr Lehmann," one of them shouted while the other hurried to raise the barrier.
Werner nodded once and drove through, following the path until a large concrete structure emerged between the trees. He parked in front of it and stepped out.
Another SS man was already waiting for him. He straightened, then offered his hand.
"Good day, sir," he said, his voice steady but respectful.
"Good day." Werner shifted his gaze past the man toward another figure further back, clad in a dark leather coat and a hat pulled deep over his face.
"Has our guest already arrived?" Werner asked.
"He has. He is already waiting inside," the SS officer answered.
"Then we shouldn't let him wait," Werner said and entered the cold building.
Inside, he stepped into what looked like an office. The large leather chair behind the desk was turned with its back toward the door. When Werner closed it, the chair rotated, revealing a not yet familiar face.
"So, you must be Heydrich?" Werner asked skeptically, looking down at the man before him.
"I am. And you are Friedrich," Heydrich replied coldly, clasping his fingers together.
Werner remained silent, examining the man who wore a faintly smug smile.
What an annoying fellow, Werner thought.
"Oh, am I in your seat?" Heydrich asked as he noticed Werner's expression, his smile widening. He rose slowly from the chair.
Werner stepped forward before Heydrich could fully move away from the desk, stopping only inches from him. Both men were tall, meeting eye to eye.
"What is it, SS-Sturmführer?" Heydrich asked, sarcasm sharpening his tone.
"I don't like your attitude, Gestapo," Werner spat with clear disgust.
"My attitude, is it? Your tolerance seems rather small for an SS man," Heydrich said. Considering that imbecile you call a leader."
Werner did not react the way Heydrich expected. Instead, the danger in his eyes faded.
"That I agree with," he said.
Heydrich raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Well... that is interesting. Although not entirely surprising, given your best friend's attitude and the whole band around him." He sat down on one of the chairs standing nearby. "That is why we are here, isn't it? All because of Jaeger." He nodded toward the folder on the table.
Werner did not respond. He sat down and opened the folder. Several minutes later he closed it again.
"He wants us to work together," Werner muttered.
"Of course. Why else would I have come all the way out here to your little hideout, being greeted by your lackeys?" Heydrich asked, raising an eyebrow.
"They are good men. More than capable of doing this mission by themselves," Werner shot back.
"Yes indeed. I have met some of them and they are loyal, truly. But I wonder... do your superiors know about the explicit loyalty of this battalion toward you and Jaeger, I assume?" Heydrich asked, his eyes narrowing.
"They don't," Werner said, gripping the folder tightly until it crinkled. "But you wouldn't tell them, would you?"
Heydrich leaned back with a thin smile.
"The fact that I am here right now means Jaeger trusts me, and I trust him. You should start working on that as well, Friedrich. I have a feeling we will meet quite often in the future," he said, tapping the folder.
The two men sat there for the entire afternoon, discussing their mission, themselves and Paul. When they finally finished, Werner stood outside and watched the black Mercedes limousine disappear into the horizon.
Weeks later
A black Mercedes limousine appeared in the distance, growing larger as it approached.
The Mercedes rolled to a stop near the entrance of the villa. It was already dark, only a single lamp above the gate casting a pale circle of light onto the gravel. Werner stepped out first, followed by Heydrich.
Behind them, SS and Gestapo men moved into position with silent discipline, spreading out across the property without a word. Two trucks parking next to the car.
"Everything is prepared," Heydrich said quietly, his breath forming a faint cloud in the cold air.
Werner nodded once. He signaled with two fingers, and a group of SS men advanced toward the gate, cutters already in hand. Metal scraped against metal, then the lock gave way with a dull snap.
The team pushed through.
Inside the courtyard, the villa remained quiet. Curtains drawn. No guards outside.
Werner stepped forward.
Heydrich moved beside him, hands folded behind his back, watching the men fan out.
"Take him alive," he murmured. "The rest… improvise."
Werner didn't respond. He already knew the plan.
"Surround the building. Make sure there are no witnesses," Werner ordered. His men immediately spread out.
Two Gestapo officers approached the front door, placed a small charge, stepped back, and with a sharp crack the lock shattered. The door flew inward. Shadows moved fast inside.
Shouts. Furniture toppled. A single gunshot. Then silence.
Werner entered last.
The general was on his knees in the hallway, hands tied behind his back, a cloth pressed over his mouth. His eyes were wide, panicked. One of the Gestapo men held him firmly by the shoulder.
Beside the stairwell lay a body. A young adjutant, shot through the chest. Blood pooled slowly across the polished floorboards.
"Unfortunate," Heydrich said flatly, glancing at the corpse. "But convenient."
Werner crouched beside the general for a moment, checking the bindings. Tight. Secure. The man struggled weakly.
Then his gaze shifted toward Heydrich and the Gestapo officers. Two of them had already turned the adjutant's body over, letting the blood collect under him.
Heydrich was examining a stone fireplace in the room adjoining the hallway.
"Strip the general and put it onto him," he said, pointing at the corpse. "Then throw him into the fireplace."
In a different part of the city, Paul stood before a fireplace too, a smaller man in a suit beside him.
"It is happening at this moment," Paul said, his eyes fixed on the flames, raising a small glass of alcohol.
"Good, good," Hitler replied, patting Paul on the shoulder. "It is good that these traitors to the fatherland are being disposed of. You are someone I can trust, Jaeger."
Paul's gaze drifted toward one of the windows of the Reichstag, his eyes unfocused as if searching for something far beyond the city...
Werner's face twisted with disgust, though he forced himself to remain composed. For a brief moment he felt as though he was being watched, but he dismissed the thought and turned back to the gruesome scene before him.
Outside, the SS men noticed a faint flicker of light behind the curtains, unaware of what was happening inside.
Werner watched the fire crackle, the flames reflected in his pupils. He stood unmoving in the middle of the hallway while Gestapo men ransacked the house around him, pulling open drawers, sweeping belongings to the floor. He swallowed hard, his eyes still wide.
For a fleeting moment, Werner questioned everything. The adjutant's young face kept flashing in his mind. Still, he did not look away. His eyes carried a faint hint of wetness.
Then he slowly turned around, giving the scene his back. He stayed like that until the house, the furniture, everything around them had descended into chaos.
Heydrich clasped his hands once, signaling the end.
The group left the building. Silently. Just as they had entered.
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