Episode 15. Early morning hours of Sunday, 2 August 1936 (Horst)
A noise in the corridor outside the door to Goebbels little Apollo Theater love nest, signaled the arrival of the promised detail from 8 Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse, here at last to pick up Fräulein Moore.
For the past hour and a half I had been sitting alone on a chair, waiting ... while just meters away on the four poster bed, Dr. Goebbels, was attending to Fräulein Moore who was bound spread-eagled and face-down, naked except for hose and garters, her rump raised high by two pillows stuffed under her hips.
It was disgusting to watch the little twerp mount her from behind, run his hands up and down her back and pound away, his skinny little ass bouncing up and down, as she lay there helpless and whimpering. Rumor had it that Goebbel's sexual appetite was unquenchable and that the girls called him 'the Ram'' ... and now he had just finished adding this poor American girl to his fabled "trophy' list.
As he passed me, pulling up his pants, on his way to the suite's adjacent small washroom, I wanted to reach out and grab him by his scrawny neck and beat his brains out, but of course, that would have been foolhardy. So I sat there, drinking and smoking, and hoping the detail from Gestspo headquarters would arrive soon.
There was a gentle knock on the door, and after a moment's hesitation, Max's round face appeared. I rose and waved him in, just as Goebbels returned from the washroom, all freshened up. Max immediately bowed out, admitting a squad of SS men instead.
They were led by a young SS man, who looked way too young for the part. "Where do they get these kids?" I wondered to myself. On seeing me he snapped to attention and loudly reported that he, Obersturmfuhrer Gustaf Kramer, had been sent to collect and take into custody a certain Fräulein Moore.
Goebbels nodded, and pointed dismissively to the naked girl stretched out on the bed. The young officer looked, swallowed hard, then clicked his heels, shouted "Heil Hitler," and led his men over to the bed, whereupon they set about removing the cuffs that bound Barbara's wrists and ankles. I watched as they pulled her to her feet ... looking a bit dazed ... bound her hands behind her back, and then looked to me for further instructions.
Irritably, I said, "What are you looking at me for? Idiots! Take her away. I will follow shortly in my car, but I need to make a phone call first."
The young lieutenant acknowledged, hastily gripped Barbara by the shoulder and marched her from the room, his detail falling in behind.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Goebbels strolled over to the sitting area where the other officers and the four comfort girls were sitting, drinks in hand, watching what had been going on with interest.
"Never mind all that," he chirped, pouring himself a drink at the bar, and placing a record on the gramophone. "Gentlemen, I propose we all get comfortable and enjoy the company of these lovely young things. Girls! Time to get naked, and pair off!"
As the serious partying got under way, I retreated to the small bedside table to make my phone call. Dialing a number from my pocket notebook, I looked down with distaste at the large dark stains on the crimson bed sheets. A moment later my call was answered.
"Klaus, it's Horst. Shut up and listen, I don't have much time," I said quietly into the receiver, turning my back to the room. "I know you witnessed what happened earlier tonight. You were in the back of the Apollo. I saw you there. I had no choice, you understand. They have her now and are taking her to 8 Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse. I am going there now and will do what I can for her, but you know that may be quite difficult. If there is anything you can do, I will get word to you. So sit tight until you hear from me. Got that?"
Without waiting for an answer I replaced the receiver, rose and crossed the room to the door. I would have said good-bye, but the night's orgy was already well underway. No one seemed to notice my departure.
Outside, I strode purposely to my waiting car. My driver, Gert, was leaning against the polished hood of the BMW, which gleamed in the glare of the streetlights outside the Apollo. He jumped to attention, hastily tossing away his cigarette.
"Get in and drive," I snapped at him, opening the back door for myself. Once inside, I settled back in the seat, opened my collar, mopped my brow with a handkerchief and said to Gert, "8 Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse, and make it fast!"
I was agitated ... ill at ease ... as Gert guided the car through the city's deserted early-morning, rain-soaked streets. Whatever this Barbara Moore is up to, she seems to be in a hurry ... almost recklessly and single-mindedly so ... to accomplish it, and she has already demonstrated an ability to keep her mouth closed. And why is it that my superiors are so anxious for me to not only find out what she is up to, but to keep her alive as well. My fear was that the heavy-handed treatment she might receive at 8 Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse just might kill her without getting beyond anything more than a superficial confession.
On arrival, I was out of the car before Gert had brought it to a full stop and racing through the front door without bothering to return the salute of the SS guard. I pulled up in front of the duty officer's desk and demanded, "the Moore girl, where did they take her."
"Interrogation Block C," replied the man after adjusting his spectacles and tracing his finger down a list of names in the open ledger on his desk.
I headed for the cellars, drawn by a drawn-out howl that was unmistakably Barbara's voice.
Turning the corner to enter the chamber, I stopped short. In the center of the room was a long wooden plank, to which the naked young woman had been strapped at ankles, hips, and chest. The plank was balanced on a trestle so that it could be tipped, and beneath the end where her head rested was a corrugated metal tub filled with water. She was lying on her back and her head had just been immersed and raised up. Her head was turned toward me. She was coughing and sputtering, sodden hair half-covering her face, water gushing from her nose and open mouth. She was surrounded by Gestapo men, one of whom was about to punch her in the stomach. Her eyes were open and riveted on me.
