He stared hard, unsure, for the figure now appeared to have stepped back out of sight.
Then he passed beneath the stone roof of the castle’s gateway, and it slipped from his view.
Obergruppenfuhrer Hans-Adolf Prutzmann’s official title was General Inspector of Special Defence, a promotion sanctioned by Reichsfuhrer Heinrich Himmler himself just a month or so ago. Since this appointment his priority had been to set up the training schools both here at Schloss Hulchrath and also at the larger site over in Braunschweig, as well as liaising with Berlin. With these tasks complete he had chosen to base himself here, choosing the rooms on the top floor of the main tower as his private quarters and office.
Wenzel was escorted inside and the door was gently shut behind him, leaving him alone with Prutzmann. Standing before the wide oak desk he waited whilst his superior leaned forward, continuing to read a file spread out before him without once looking up. Wenzel watched the man patiently, seeing his own dim reflection in Prutzmann’s highly polished, balding head.
After a minute or so he finally mumbled “sit please,” and as Wenzel took the only other seat in the room, Prutzmann closed the file and looked up. His thin lips twitched briefly into what might pass as a smile, before his features slipped back into a neutral expression.
“Is the training going well Wenzel?” Prutzmann’s voice was low and gravely, almost a rumble like distant thunder.
“YesObergruppenfuhrer. The recruits are showing impressive potential. The selection process was time-consuming, but as is becoming apparent is proving fully worthwhile. They are mostly ahead of schedule, both in their military disciplines as well as their academic studies.”
As he spoke Wenzel cast his eyes around the office, noting the large painting of Alexander the Great above the empty fireplace, the portrait of The Fuhrer which hung beside the deep-set window, and the small door in the corner which he knew led out onto the wooden balcony.
“Everything is proceeding exactly as we had hoped,” he added with not a small degree of self-satisfaction.
“Excellent,” Prutzmann replied. He looked straight at Wenzel with his eyes narrowed in consideration. “Because we have just received final confirmation from the Reichsfuhrer that we are to press ahead with the special program.”
Wenzel’s attention came fully back to the meeting at these words. He found himself subconsciously sitting up in his chair a fraction, and for some unaccountable reason felt a queer prickling sensation at the back of his neck.
Prutzmann gently patted the file on the desk before him. “Here are our final instructions, as obtained and modified during the Magus Conference.”
Wenzel’s eyes lowered to look at the leather bound file, noticing the strange symbols across the front.
“It is imperative that we follow all of the observances correctly,” Prutzmann continued, his hand still touching the file in an almost protective manner. He waited for a response, and so Wenzel merely nodded, for his mouth was suddenly very dry.
Finally Prutzmann took hold of the heavy file and leaned across his desk, holding it out. Wenzel gripped the leather in both his arms as he sat back in his chair, looking down at the cover. On the front, in simple typed words – UNTERNEHMEN WERWOLF.
“You may read it tonight and only tonight. The lunar phase is correct. It goes without saying, however, that you should still conduct all of the necessary protective measures.”
“Of course Obergruppenfuhrer,” he managed to reply.
There were several moments of silence between the two men as each thought about what was to come, before Prutzmann quite quickly came to his feet. “Now, I wish you to meet someone.”
Wenzel jumped up, making sure not to drop the large file, his eyes automatically shifting over to the small door in the far corner and thinking of the figure he had seen from outside.
As he guessed he would Prutzmann called across in that direction, his voice suddenly more animated. “You may join us please.”
The door was pushed open from the other side and in walked a short and young person.
“This is Fraulein Ilse Hirsch,” Prutzmann announced.
Wenzel stared in shock and surprise.
Before him stood a strikingly beautiful young woman, he guessed aged in her very early twenties. Quite short and petite with long blonde hair perfectly arranged in a pair of plaits that hung down over the front of her shoulders, and with crystal blue eyes that held his gaze with confidence. She was dressed in the uniform of the BDM, The League of German Girls, the female branch of the Hitler Youth: long dark blue skirt and brown brogues and white socks, and a pristine white short-sleeved blouse and black necktie. Wenzel noticed on her left sleeve the black and silver insignia that gave her rank as Captain, above the small diamond patch with a swastika at the centre.
Wenzel cast his gaze over her, rooted to the spot, and when he glanced back up to her face her ice-cold eyes were now looking not at him but at the file he still gripped tightly to his chest. There was the faintest hint of a smile and her lips parted just a fraction.
Prutzmann, standing to the side, watched them both curiously with his head tilted slightly. Then he blinked lazily and moved around his desk to join them in the centre of the room.
“Fraulein Hirsch has just arrived from Berlin where she has been attending the conference. She kindly brought the file with her.”
Wenzel finally dragged his gaze from her and looked across at Prutzmann with his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Do not worry, we may converse freely. Miss Hirsch has code-blue clearance and has full access to all special program operations. She is here
