Righteous Fury: Sequel to The Mistress of Auschwitz (Book 2 of 3) Read online

  RIGHTEOUS FURY

  A Historical Fiction by Terrance D Williamson

  Dedicated to:

  My eternal son,

  My loving daughter,

  And my patient wife.

  Copyright of Terrance D Williamson.

  Introduction

  This book begins just before the point where the previous book, The Mistress of Auschwitz, ended. While I strove to be as accurate as possible, liberties were taken to tell the story.

  With regards to Eleonore’s story after the camps, I exercised this liberty to its full extent as there is almost nothing to rely on for information. There is no accounting of what happened to her after the Allies unshackled the camp inmates. Apart from how her true story ends, large parts of her records have been left blank, and I have taken it upon myself to create the drama which could’ve happened.

  In contrast, the new character introduced into this book, Hanns Volker, has a thorough and compelling historical accounting. I have, however, hidden his true identity out of respect for his living relatives. I hope that I’ve done this wonderful man a great service for the sacrifices he made to bring justice into the world.

  Actual excerpts, statements, quotes, and arguments have been extracted by the prosecution and defence with respect to the Belsen Trials. I must stress that if you endeavor to read the immensely interesting trials, that you read them in their entirety.

  DISCLAIMER: While certain events are taken from Hanns Volker and Eleonore Hodys’ life, this is the fictional telling of the historical events and are, in no way, the actual representation of either Eleonore or Hanns. I would encourage anyone interested to research and read about the extraordinary events that have been fictionalized in my book.

  Chapter One:

  Liberation

  Deep in earth my love is lying

  And I must weep alone.

  Edgar Allan Poe

  “Sit,” the Allied officer ordered Eleonore gruffly after he opened a door to a small interview room with large, clear windows.

  Eleonore froze in the doorway at the sight of the cement floor stained with blood. Her fear intensified when she spotted the shackles fastened to the gray, iron table and she shuddered to think of the malicious purpose of this room.

  With a slight nudge, the officer guided Eleonore inside and brushed past her as he pulled out a chair for himself. Despite his impoliteness, Eleonore found herself trusting this man and didn’t detect that he wished her any harm. Besides, manners were forgotten in the hell of a concentration camp, even from the liberators.

  Sitting across from him, Eleonore winced at the strain on her stomach and held her belly as she positioned herself on the chair. The Nazi doctor had been careless with the stitches on her stomach and they caught on the fabric of her borrowed dress, causing great discomfort with even slight movements.

  Abruptly, the man threw his satchel onto the table and retrieved a black pen, a frayed leather notepad, and a pack of cigarettes. Lighting his cigarette, the man didn’t offer one to Eleonore, who half-expected the gesture to be customary.

  “May I have one?” Eleonore asked with longing. In normal circumstances, she wouldn’t dare be so bold, but her time at Auschwitz had altered her sense of propriety.

  “No,” the man shook his head quickly as he wrote.

  “What are you writing?” Eleonore grew annoyed at his rudeness.

  Irritated by the interruption, the man closed his eyes as he muttered to himself softly, struggling to remember something pertinent which Eleonore had inadvertently driven away.

  “Right,” he nodded and continued writing, ignoring Eleonore’s question as she sighed at the disregard.

  “How do you know German so well?” Eleonore continued to pester him. “Your accent is familiar.”

  “My name is Hanns Volker,” he finally replied and sat up straight while looking at her with disinterest. “I grew up in Berlin.”

  “You’re Jewish?” Eleonore asked, but felt herself feeling faint from exhaustion and trauma.

  “I am. As were those American soldiers who wanted to kill that Nazi officer.”

  “Then why did you stop them?” Eleonore squinted.

  “A dead Nazi can’t talk,” Hanns looked out the window at the Allies busying themselves with raiding the other offices across the hallway and collecting the documents and evidence that weren’t destroyed, “and the world needs to know what has happened here.”

  “I’m still confused as to why you need me,” Eleonore shook her head. “Why did you single me out?”

  “Vengeance,” Hanns spoke coldly.

  “I’m not much use when it comes to violence,” Eleonore huffed. Being rather petite, Eleonore was of little threat to anyone, even in her best physical condition.

  “Rudolph Hoess,” Hanns blurted the name and Eleonore froze in terror at the mention of him. “He was the father, wasn’t he?” he nodded to her belly.

  Eleonore’s eyes welled as she thought of her child. The Nazis had stolen that future from her, and she felt the absence of her baby with every breath. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t form. Instead, she replied with a simple nod.

  “The Commandant of Auschwitz has escaped, and I have been tasked with tracking him down,” Hanns leaned in and folded his hands as he spoke quietly.

  “Escaped?” Eleonore frowned.

  “Yes,” Hanns nodded quickly.

  “How does his escape involve me?” Eleonore shook her head.

  “Will you help me hunt him down and bring him to justice?”

  Eleonore stared at Hanns in complete shock. She didn’t believe that she had heard him correctly. Then, swiftly, Eleonore reached across the table, grabbed Hanns’ cigarettes, took one out of the package, and held it to her mouth as she waited for him to light it.

  With his hands folded, Hanns studied her for a moment. Then, reluctantly, he reached into his satchel and retrieved some matches. Lighting one, he held it against her cigarette as she stared into his eyes, testing his character.

  Inhaling deeply, Eleonore leaned back in her chair before exhaling a cloud of smoke that swirled about in the stagnant air. The room began to spin as she closed her eyes. She was hungry, desperately, and it had been an age since her last cigarette, which she now savored.

  A shout from outside the room startled Eleonore, and she looked through the window to see a young soldier, no older than eighteen, shaking and scrambling to pick up the documents that he had accidentally scattered in the hallway. A senior officer shouted impatiently at the blunder, which only increased the unsteadiness of the boy.

  Clearing his throat, Hanns regained Eleonore’s attention. While she wasn’t the best judge of character, Eleonore read well enough into Hanns’ expression that he wasn’t relishing the request for assistance from her. He seemed, to her, to be emotionally distant and calculated, but Eleonore surmised that this was due to him being overwhelmed with what he was experiencing. Regardless, it made her question the purpose of him asking her for help.

  Not to mention that the disparity between them made her feel rather self-conscious. Nearly twice his age, Eleonore sat across from him as a shadow of herself in a tattered, bullet-filled dress, while he was clean-shaven with a smart, pressed uniform in perfect order. She would’ve preferred to have been afforded the dignity of being interviewed as his equal but understood that he viewed her as pitiful. It wasn’t his fault, she realized, as her sad appearance evoked an emotional response that only a few would be immune to.

  Although young, there was a maturity in his gaze. Eleonore could sense
a mischievous spirit about him which, she supposed, made him adept at his job. If he was going to hunt down Nazis such as Rudolph Hoess, then he had to be cunning and carry a sharper wit than his ‘prey’.

  “Well,” Hanns became impatient, “will you help me find Rudolph Hoess?”

  “That depends,” Eleonore tapped her cigarette gently, shaking off the ash as Hanns continued to stare at her with a grave expression. She assumed that this was his first experience with the barbarity of the Nazis, and he was trying to compensate by covering up his emotions.

  “On what?” Hanns shrugged.

  “What do you believe I can contribute?” Eleonore squinted as she took another puff.

  “You were his lover, no?” Hanns crossed his arms.

  “No!” Eleonore frowned and shook her head quickly, disgusted at the very thought.

  “But you carried his child,” Hanns looked at her suspiciously.

  “That doesn’t require love,” Eleonore spoke softly as she looked away.

  “He took you by force then?” Hanns’ intrigue grew, and Eleonore spotted a plot forming in his mind. The severity of his frown lessened, and Eleonore noticed his opinion of her shifting faintly.

  “Not necessarily,” Eleonore swallowed, wishing he would use a little more tact in his questioning. It was an uncomfortable discussion even in the best of circumstances.

  “I’m not following,” Hanns watched her intently.

  “I offered myself for the sake of another,” Eleonore returned to staring into his eyes, “but to say I had a choice in the matter would be false. He didn’t force me through physical means, but he didn’t offer me the opportunity to deny him, either.”

  “Well, Miss Hodys,” Hanns returned to folding his hands as he leaned in, unmoved by Eleonore’s trials, “I’m offering you the opportunity to exact revenge on this man. Will you not assist me?”

  “What can I do?” Eleonore shook her head in bewilderment.

  “You knew him best,” Hanns tilted his head. “Did he mention anything about where he would go, places he could hide?”

  “I didn’t know him best!” Eleonore grew indignant. “I barely knew the man at all!”

  “You knew him a hell of a lot better than me,” Hanns pointed to her still swollen belly.

  “How dare you!” Eleonore stood but regretted the rash movement as the room began to spin around her. “You have no idea what I did to survive! Or what I did to alleviate another’s sorrows!”

  Hanns remained silent as he watched her for a moment before slowly taking out another cigarette and lighting it as he stared into her eyes. One would hardly need to be perceptive to decipher his thoughts as he looked at her with a slight scowl. He believed that she had behaved dishonorably and taken the path of convenience rather than principle. She might have assumed the same, Eleonore supposed, if she was in his position.

  Then, while still holding his cigarette, Hanns reached into his satchel and produced a small, brown envelope which he handed to Eleonore. Watching him warily, Eleonore sat and opened it as she pulled out the documents enclosed. Written in English, Eleonore struggled with the complexity of the wording. She could understand a moderate level of English, but legal jargon was challenging to comprehend. She could, however, decipher the words ‘War Crimes Investigation Team’.

  “What’s this?” Eleonore looked up at him.

  “I have been tasked with gathering information for the upcoming war crime trials in Belsen,” Hanns spoke softly. “I believe that you have valuable information which, if we catch him, will help us bring Rudolph Hoess to justice.”

  “If you catch him, then don’t hesitate to hang him,” Eleonore spoke with unwavering hatred. “And if he runs, don’t miss when you squeeze the trigger. I can’t provide you with more valuable information than that,” Eleonore passed the envelope back to Hanns.

  “You won’t help me?!” Hanns shot his head back in surprise. “Why? Do you still love him?”

  “I didn’t love him then and I don’t love him now!” Eleonore’s eyes bulged at the outrageous accusation.

  “Then why won’t you help me?”

  “My life has been uprooted enough,” Eleonore’s lips trembled as she spoke. “I need to go home. I need to return to my flat, to my shop. I need to eat. I need to rest. I need my life back.”

  “Berlin is in ashes,” Hanns spoke bluntly. “Whatever life you once had is now gone.”

  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but to hear Hanns utter these words shattered whatever fabrication she clung to that life could return to ‘normal’. The beautiful city where she had grown up, where her lovely little shop had been, where Ruth and Alex had given her many wonderful memories, was now destroyed. What was she if not the seamstress of La Venezia?

  “There is nothing for you there,” Hanns continued to speak without much emotion but waited patiently for Eleonore while she absorbed the devastating news. “If you don’t believe me, then ask anyone, including some of your previous captors. They continued with these camps even when it was clear that they had lost the war. They persisted in murdering my people, and those like yourself who resisted, even when the orders had ceased.”

  “How did you know that I’m from Berlin?” Eleonore watched him with increasing mistrust.

  “I know a few things about you, Miss Hodys,” Hanns lifted the envelope and waved it briefly before slapping it back down on the table. “But I also know that Berlin is not your native home. Your accent isn’t natural to you. It’s close, but there are a few words here and there that give you away.”

  “Vienna,” Eleonore explained, impressed with Hanns’ investigative abilities, giving her confidence that if anyone could catch Rudolph, it would be the man in front of her. “Alright, what do you need from me?”

  “To start, a statement. Then, once the trials commence, it would be beneficial to have you take the stand as a witness.”

  “Absolutely not,” Eleonore shook her head. The thought of her being near to anyone involved with Auschwitz gave her immense anxiety.

  “We can discuss that later,” Hanns held up his hand to calm her. “Can we begin, at least, with your statement?”

  “You said Rudolph Hoess escaped?” Eleonore took another puff from her cigarette.

  “That’s right,” Hanns nodded.

  “He wanted me dead while I was at Auschwitz,” Eleonore glanced down at her still swollen belly, indicating the reason. “If I give you this statement, it’s likely that he will try to have me killed.”

  “We’ll protect you,” Hanns opened the tattered notepad and prepared to write. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  At this, Eleonore burst into tears and turned away to hide her shame. Her hand trembled as the ash from her cigarette fell to the floor. Rudolph, she felt, was ever-present. He was the shadow in the corner of the room, the unsettling feeling that someone was behind her. How could Hanns be so arrogant to assume that he could protect her? The damage that Rudolph did was irreversible.

  “Eleonore,” Hanns continued with a little more sympathy, “this is the right thing to do,” he relaxed his shoulders and showed, for the first time, a genuine emotion. “You can help bring justice to an untold number of lives who have been affected by this Nazi plague.”

  “I’m so tired,” Eleonore leaned back in her chair and took another puff of her cigarette.

  “We’re all tired, Miss Hodys,” Hanns spoke casually but, by the look he received from Eleonore, knew that he should’ve kept silent.

  “You’ve still got meat on your bones,” Eleonore muttered bitterly under her breath and closed her eyes.

  “I didn’t intend to insult you,” Hanns shook his head and paused before continuing as Eleonore sensed a rage rising within him. “Truth is, I heard about the camps, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this. I want to find this bastard, and I want to find him now before he gets too far away.”

  “I understand,” Eleonore wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’ll tell you my story
, but on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Hide my identity, to some degree at least.”

  “I need your name,” Hanns looked at her with regret.

  “Just use my initials,” Eleonore leaned forward. “Please.”

  “E.H.,” Hanns spoke faintly as he wrote on the top of the page.

  “Thank you,” Eleonore sighed and grabbed another cigarette. “Could I possibly have something to eat?”

  “Uh…sure,” Hanns thought for a moment and then reached into his satchel and placed a red, tin can on the table.

  Without reservation, Eleonore shoveled the spam-like product into her mouth. She must’ve looked mad to Hanns, but she didn’t care. She simply closed her eyes and chewed as quickly as possible to quiet her aching stomach.

  “Thank you,” Eleonore nodded to Hanns as she wiped her face with the sleeve of her borrowed dress.

  “Proceed when you’re able,” Hanns held his pen at the ready. “Just tell me your story as best as you can remember it.”

  “Well,” Eleonore puffed her cigarette, “I owned a seamstress shop in Berlin, La Venezia, that was used as a secret meeting place for Socialist Democrats, of which I was a patron. I also employed two Jews at the store, Ruth and Alex, who were the sweetest people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. Despite the race laws that came into effect, I refused to terminate their employment.”

  “So, you were arrested, then?” Hanns spoke as he wrote.

  “Not directly. I was warned by a Nazi official that I was on their ‘list’ and that he would be returning within twenty-four hours to arrest me. We were childhood acquaintances so he gave me the courtesy of a warning. As expected, we panicked and attempted to flee the country. Ruth, Alex, and I were duped into believing that we had an avenue to freedom with a certain gentleman who convinced me to forge Nazi party papers,” Eleonore shook her head as she remembered the crippled man who had deceived her. She wondered where he was now, and if he had been caught by the Allies, or if he even knew the conditions that he was cheating people into. If he had willingly sent people to the camps knowing how wicked they were, then Eleonore hoped that he was dead, as cruel as that sounded.