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Mayor, as they had expired. He and his colleague worked for the Organisation Todt labour force carrying out important construction works on the border fortifications, so it was necessary that their paperwork was in order. Happy to oblige, the housekeeper and child went to find the Mayor.

Franz Oppenhoff appeared several minutes later, pleased to see the two visitors but querying whether it was polite to call unannounced at such a late hour? Wenzel apologized and reached into his pocket for his workers pass.

But instead he pulled out a handgun, a silencer-equipped Walther automatic, and levelled it at Oppenhoff’s face. Breathing heavily, Wenzel scowled at the man before him. His hand started to shake, his whole arm quivering, and he suddenly felt light-headed, his lips going numb, and he was sure he was going to be sick.

Seeing his commander hesitate Leitgeb reached across and took the gun. “Heil Hitler,” he whispered, and pulled the trigger.

They fled back out of the front entrance and through the gates, and then turned and raced down the street towards where Hennemann was waiting on the corner. Seeing them coming, their lookout nodded – the way was clear – and then he turned and strolled calmly away into the evening gloom, whistling to himself.

Wenzel and Leitgeb ran straight across Eupener Strasse, narrowly avoiding being hit by a passenger trolley trundling past, and climbed over the railings along the pavement. On the other side was a steep slope covered with thick bushes and undergrowth. They careened down without slowing. At the bottom was a narrow stream, which they raced along, the cold water splashing up in their wake. This small tributary would feed into another beck, and this in turn would lead them out through the city suburbs to the safe house. If all went as arranged Hennemann would join them later.

Wenzel and Leitgeb made it safely back in the early hours of the following morning, and Hennemann several hours later.

Their escape along the waterway had taken much longer than planned, as parts of their journey took them in and out of the city sewer system, through culverts and drains. Finding their way in the pitch dark, with rats and stray dogs for company, was only a part of the problem as well. Very quickly after the assassination the whole of Aachen had been put on high alert, and an immediate curfew imposed until dawn. Anybody found on the streets without authorisation was subject to immediate arrest by the American occupying forces and their German collaborators in the civil guard. This had forced them to take frequent halts during their flight, waiting until the coast was clear and hoping the enemy patrols with their guard dogs did not spot them. Eventually, exhausted and stinking of raw sewage, they had stumbled through the back door of the safe house.

It soon became clear that during their absence something had happened. The atmosphere was tense and everybody was on edge, as though they had arrived in the midst of an awful argument.

The main cause of it seemed to revolve around Erich Morgenschweiss, the youngest member of the team, and Ilse Hirsch.

The teenager had become infatuated with her. The whole team had noticed his behaviour over the last few days, following her around, offering to perform any small task for her. Yet nobody had realized just how obsessive he had grown until last night, when she had made a point of ignoring him and even belittling him, laughing in his face and calling him her ‘little pup’. Very quickly her spurning him like this had changed him from a quiet and almost timid boy into a brooding young man, sitting in the corner and throwing angry looks at her. The atmosphere had grown increasingly tense. Quickly an air of bitterness developed, with Georg Heidorn, the second local scout left behind, finding himself caught in the middle. He guessed correctly that something must have occurred between them at some stage but wisely he chose not to voice his thoughts out loud.

Eventually a huge row had developed and Hirsch and Morgenschweiss had nearly come to blows, only the return of Wenzel and Leitgeb, and later Hennemann, preventing a violent confrontation.

Wenzel snapped. He told the whole team that their behaviour was putting the whole operation under threat. Yes, they had successfully carried out the assassination, but they still had to make their way back east to friendly lines. Nothing would be allowed to jeopardize that. Angrily he instructed them all to get some rest. They would be leaving in a few hours.

Later that evening, as they were gathering their things in readiness for their departure, young Morgenschweiss went outside to collect some kindling from the small barn at the end of the narrow garden. Ilse Hirsch slipped out after him.

Seeing them leave, Wenzel watched through the window as she followed him down the overgrown path.

Several minutes later she came back into the small downstairs room where the other members of the team waited. They looked at her, then at the door behind.

“He will no longer be a problem,” she informed them, as she washed blood from her hands.

The remaining five members of the commando team successfully evaded the patrols and fled quietly into the surrounding forest without capture, quickly leaving Aachen behind.

Hirsch led them, an unspoken acknowledgment that she was in command now. Nobody raised their voice in protest at this subtle change as an air of fear gripped them all. Each one of them now petrified of this strange and alluring woman in their midst. This She-wolf.

They made good progress on the first day. As pre-planned they struck out north-east towards a small hamlet about twelve miles from the city. Here they spent the night sleeping in an abandoned mineshaft where supplies of food and ammunition had been left by fellow partisans. On the morn they continued with their escape, making for the castle at Hulchrath, but sometime during the afternoon disaster struck.

They had come to the edge of the woods and paused

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