It was no more than a few seconds before Sven threw the door to the ground. We piled into the small flat, though I stood by the open doorway as I didn’t plan to be the questioner.
A family of three occupied the home. Though dark from the navy blue papered walls and small windows, candle flames were not present, nor were there lamps to light the way. We could see just what the dull rays of sunlight offered: three terrified faces.
I imagined this is what Amelia’s face must have looked like when the soldiers pulled her from her home, and it pained me to the core. I wanted to be done scaring people, torturing, and fighting the innocent. It was unnecessary, and I was sure those three people knew nothing of the assassins.
"We are conducting searches in the area, looking for the men responsible for our commander’s death. Do you have any information that might be helpful to us?" Astor asked the three of them.
The woman, who I assumed to be the young man’s mother, sat in a hand-carved wooden chair in front of a cut tree stump being used as a small table. She was toying with a small ball of yarn, weaving the threads around her fingers. Her white hair was a mess even pinned up, and her dress was torn at the hem and covered with a stained apron. Poverty was becoming an epidemic; that much was clear.
The man did not look much better, though he was on two feet with his arms crossed over his chest. "We know nothing that could be of help to you," he offered.
Their son, however, was showing signs of nerves. It could have been because German soldiers were standing in his house, but he had a similar disposition to Callum. I didn’t want to accuse this family of a war crime, but I could not control what Sven and Astor would do next.
"Boy, you look like you know something," Sven said directly to the young man. "You all must leave so we can conduct our search."
"We are not hiding a thing," the father spoke. "You must be mistaken."
"Then surely you won’t mind if we take a look," Sven replied, removing his cap while walking farther inside.
"Come along," the father told his wife and son. However, the young man refused to stand. Instead, he shook his head as he took a seat on the floor in the corner of the room. I was sure at that moment he was guilty, and Sven and Astor were also sure. Sven moved quickly across the small living area, cornering the son. "You do have information for us," Sven told him, grabbing his arm and lifting the boy to his feet. Sven dragged him out the door, throwing him against the wall in the hallway.
The rest of us stared silently at the man and woman who could not be bothered to make eye contact with us. The man and woman stood silently in the hallway, doing as we told them. All the while, their son was being questioned by Sven and Astor.
However, the boy was not cooperating. Therefore, we were no closer to locating the assassins. It seemed as though it was a wasted effort.
"I must use the washroom," the woman spoke up. "Please."
One of the other soldiers escorted the woman back into her flat and stood outside the door, waiting for her to finish.
Except, after nearly an hour, the soldier reappeared in the doorway alone. "Astor, a word, please." Astor and his subordinate spoke privately, but I overheard the words: "cyanide capsule" and "she’s dead."
Astor disappeared into the flat, almost as if he had preplanned what was happening. The son and father were taken to another area of the building by Sven, leaving Callum and myself alone in the hallway. I glanced over, wondering what thoughts were going through the young man’s head.
"We grew up together," Callum spoke from beside me. "Daniel and I, we were once close friends." Callum turned in his friend for money.
An hour had passed when Astor appeared in the doorway with the unthinkable—the mother’s head contained in a glass bowl. My stomach lurched. "This should get the boy talking, ja?" Astor said with a smirk. "We should be on our way soon."
There were no words to speak. My mind felt darker than it had before, and I was starting to believe I would never see a purpose for daylight again.
When I remembered I was not alone, I peered over at Callum, who now understood the repercussions of his actions. His eyes were not blinking. He appeared dead, staring through the wall before us; he was in shock. I took the boy outside and sat him on the curb.
"You have been starving, ja?" I asked him.
Callum shook his head. "I—I was desperate. My wife is pregnant, and she can’t move. My father is dying. We’re all in the same house, and everyone is hungry," Callum cried out. He’s young to have a wife, but age was not a factor any longer. Lives were cut short, and the age of death was far younger than it had been.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handful of euros. "I don’t know if they will pay you the money you requested. In case they don’t, feed your family tonight." I closed his hand over the money. "We are all trying to survive. It’s all for one, Callum. I understand."
I didn’t truly understand, but it was the words he needed to hear because desperation in a time of poverty meant people were forced to choose between loved ones.
The day carried on for what seemed like forever. If only I could convince myself I had seen the worst of my reasons for being in Prague.
Chapter 21
June 1942
Prague, Czechoslovakia
We found the assassins beneath floorboards on the bottom floor of the apartment building. The beheaded mother and her son were hiding the convicts. The father knew nothing of the act. Regardless, the son and father would be left to face the repercussions of protecting the assassins. Death would soon find them.
