Espionage

A German guard threw me into the cell my father specifically requested, making me land in the dirt on my stomach with a thud. I coughed, making a cloud of dust accumulate in the air around be. My ribs hurt, I wouldn’t be surprised if some were broken. Cuts lined my face, making my once flawless appearance now hideous, to me anyway. Although I hadn’t seen my face yet, I could tell that they did some damage. I felt a searing pain in my left hand. Bringing it to my face so I could see it in the dim light, I saw that two of the fingers were dislocated. I’m surprised that they didn’t just kill me.

I sat up, with much difficulty, cradled my hand and saw that I wasn’t alone. This struck the tiniest bit of fear in me. My father threw me in here with a mad man. That’s why he didn’t kill me himself, he knew Hugo Stiglitz would get the job done for him without a second thought. I had heard many things about the man sitting on the bench before me, some things true, others rumor. I knew for sure that he had killed thirteen Nazi Officers, in the most brutal ways you could imagine. I had met him before a time or two as well. He was a well respected Sergeant in the Nazi world, a wonderful officer in my father’s eyes. I knew he was in Berlin to be made an example of, but I guess my father wanted him to have one last go before they hung him. If Stiglitz didn’t get to me, I’d probably be the second spectacle to hang from the rope.

I didn’t see him as a monster, not in the slightest. Although he will probably strangle me to death because of who I am, I wouldn’t blame him. He was a fairly attractive man, very attractive, actually. He was in a grey uniform and his hair looked like it had just been cut. All and all, he didn’t look like a prisoner. He caught me looking at him and locked his gaze with mine. I quickly looked away, even though he had already seen me looking. He chuckled.

“Lorelei Landa.” Was all he said as he shook his head. I knew he wasn’t much of a talker, so I didn’t expect anything other than that. I knew he knew who I was, and he knew that I knew who he was. I think he was confused as to why The Jew Hunter’s daughter was beaten and bloodied in a jail cell with him.

I pulled myself over to the bench opposite of Stiglitz and sat down. I felt blood dabble down my forehead, dripping onto my already bloody shirt. My hand and sternum were throbbing, the pain becoming unbearable. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. My breathing coming out in heavy gasps.