Vilmer put a cigarette to his lips and flicked open his lighter, the glint of sun on the aluminum case blinding me for a moment. “You can’t have it both ways, Herta. Kill and still be seen as a healer. It takes a toll.”
“On my time off, I think of other things.”
“That’s doubling, you know. It’s unhealthy.”
“So is smoking.”
Vilmer winced and tossed his cigarette away, causing a scuffle among the Häftlings. “Look, a certain amount of compartmentalizing is healthy, but you might be better off with a change of pace.”
“You are transferring me?”
“I think you could do with a change, yes. At this point, there isn’t a lot you can do to help the Reich.”
“So you’ll stick me in some small-town hospital ward with a tongue depressor and a bottle of aspirin? You may not have taken your medical education seriously, but I have worked hard to get where I am.”
“No need for hostility, Herta.”
My dress was like a furnace, causing perspiration to roll down my back.
“So now I am hostile? Please. Have you ever done something so well you think you are destined to do great things? No, don’t write ‘suffering from grandiosity’ on my chart. This is real. I am a medical doctor, Vilmer. It is my oxygen. Please don’t let them send me away.”
“This mess is not ending well for Germany, Herta. You must see that. You will be in line for the gallows.”
I started back to the Wagen. “Suhren is managing things.”
Vilmer followed. “You think Suhren will protect you? He will make a run for Munich. Or Austria. Gebhardt is already lobbying to have himself made president of the Red Cross, as if that will absolve him. Why don’t you just take a leave of absence?”
It was sickening. Such weakness. Had all Germans turned to jelly overnight?
“I will leave you to your research.” I stepped back into the Wagen and tossed him the bag of sandwiches we’d brought. “I can handle this, Vilmer. I have come this far. Please don’t take it all away.”
As I drove out of the Uckermark gates, a truck passed me in the opposite direction, coming to pick up a special-handling transport. I found Vilmer in my rearview mirror, squatting near the tent, talking with some Hungarian Jews. Chatting with them about their feelings, no doubt. As if that would help the Reich.
—
A FEW MONTHS LATER Suhren called me to his office, his face earthworm gray.
“Our sources tell me news of Gebhardt’s Rabbits has leaked. Berlin intercepted a Swit broadcast from the Polish government-in-exile in London that gave details of the Rabbits. Called it vivisection and mentioned me by name. Binz too. Said our crimes will be avenged with a red-hot poker.”
“Any doctors mentioned?”
“Just Gebhardt. They said a Catholic mission in Fribourg sent word to the Vatican.”
“I told you, Commandant.”
He paced. “How did word leak? We were so careful. I suppose we need to make sure those Rabbits are well tended then.”
“No, Commandant. Just the opposite. As we discussed—”
“The security office says the Polish government-in-exile has condemned Gebhardt to death, you know. This is international opinion we are dealing with. Must be handled carefully. It can make a difference once things are, well, over.”
“It’s better if the Rabbits are never found. Hard for public opinion to comment on something that never existed.”
“But Himmler is talking to Sweden about transporting Häftlings out of here. To Sweden in Red Cross buses. Thinks it might encourage leniency. Perhaps this will help us. I hope it is well noted that I objected to the operations.”
How could Suhren be so naïve? There would be no leniency. If Germany lost the war, the victors would not exactly be lining up asking who had objected to what. Suhren would head straight for the gallows.
“Do you think the world will look kindly on that walking evidence of what went on here? Commandant, you will be held responsible no matter what you say. Me too.”
Suhren looked out his window over the camp below.
“How do we find them? Häftlings are not going by their real numbers anymore.” His eyes were bloodshot. Had he been drinking? “At Appell, they just slip away. They exchange numbers with the dead.”
I stepped closer to him. “Most should be in Block 31—or hiding underneath. With the new facility—”
“Please, Oberheuser…”
Suhren didn’t like to talk about the new facility, and certainly no one spoke the word gas. His new staff members, just arrived from Auschwitz,