Chapter 44 Ada
Ada
The morning of her trial finds Ada in her hotel room, alone with this odd version of herself. Not the resistance member defending
her country, not the glamorous actress protecting her past, but this woman the public has vilified. She should have traveled
with the Committee for the First Amendment yesterday, on their way to protest the hearings. Instead she’s preparing for her
own trial.
Once dressed, Ada sits on the bed. Suddenly she’s in her childhood bedroom in Arnhem, alone for the first of many mornings.
Awaiting whatever is to come. Facing it without her sister.
She picks up the telephone, then hangs up without placing a call. Something she’s done often since receiving her citation.
Telling her sister about it means involving her in a situation that could lead to terrible repercussions for both of them.
Ada sent Ingrid away once for safety; this time, she must keep her away as best she can.
They have caused enough harm to one another. Even if she still hasn’t returned her sister’s calls. Even if the urge to share
this experience with Ingrid battles against her lingering reluctance to speak to her.
A knock sounds on the door. Gordon, most likely, coming to fetch her so they can leave. Instead, when she answers, Ada finds Ingrid.
Unsurprising, really. Ingrid always does her research. Still, a knot forms in Ada’s chest as she steps aside, permitting her
to enter, then they face each other in silence. Much like they did little more than a year ago. A reunion of sisters. Since
then, they have clung to an unbreakable bond tested by distance, time, confusion, yet never severed. Except, now, perhaps
it has been. Perhaps their own actions have destroyed everything.
“If you don’t want me to attend the trial, then you’ll just have to alert security and hope they manage to stop me, because
telling me to stay away won’t work.” Ingrid removes her headscarf, reading glasses, and a small badge identifying her as a
member of what Ada suspects is a fictional publication. She places the items on the bed. “So much of this is my fault. I don’t
expect that to be forgotten or forgiven. But please let me say this, and then you can go on hating me if you want.”
Ada does not want to concede. She heard enough of Ingrid’s excuses at her hearing. But the pain is not so acute anymore, and
she doesn’t want to dwell in anger or resentment. She stays quiet, granting unspoken permission.
“A few corrupt men took my findings and built the case they wanted to build, despite all evidence to the contrary, to convince
the committee you were a threat. They used you. And I let them use me too, even though I wasn’t aware of their intentions.
None of which is an excuse, because I still lied to the person who should always be able to trust me.” A tear slips free as
she holds Ada’s gaze. “No job is worth losing you.”
The admission softens the lingering ache in Ada’s chest. Ingrid was used too. It does not absolve her entirely, but it means
the sister Ada thought she knew is still there after all.
“Others named me, so if the plan was to use me, it would have come to that with or without you. And you encouraged me to find my voice again, so that much was worth it. As was finding you.” She offers Ingrid a faint reassuring smile. “You can’t lose me again that easily.”
Both are at fault for so many things. The time to forgive those things will come, gradual and unhurried. For now, her sister
is here, and that is enough.
She pulls Ingrid into an embrace until her sister makes the smallest sound, a tiny squeak indicative of a pain she’s attempting
to mask. At once, Ada pulls back.
“You’re hurt.”
It’s not a question, because it doesn’t need to be.
“Not terribly.” Her wince indicates otherwise. “There’s a bit of a problem with our war crimes case—meaning I was encouraged
to desist.”
A rancid taste fills Ada’s mouth as she studies the creases across Ingrid’s brow, the way she shifts from foot to foot, the
agitation that has never been present in her conscientious, sensible sister. Ada lived it, for God’s sake. She never should
have involved Ingrid, should have known this was bound to lead to danger, especially when Ada herself was threatened numerous
times. Of course the threats eventually extended to Ingrid.
“Someone confronted you?”
“Klaus Stieber—my former handler. He called me into his office a few weeks ago to ask about the war crimes case you claimed
to be building and offered to help with it—but he’s one of the men involved in your investigation, so I don’t trust him anymore.
Then last night, he broke into my apartment and seized the evidence, claiming it was a government matter so I was no longer
permitted to have it.”
“And he attacked you?”
Ingrid flinches. “Perhaps that was the most unusual part: Stieber knew Lars was out, so he had the time and opportunity to
do worse. Much worse. He untied my dressing gown, for God’s sake, then he just .
. . looked at me.” She clenches her jaw, visibly fighting to push the memory aside, then takes a breath.
“He’s a former Nazi. Hattie read his file—just desk work, but I’m sure he knew men who committed war crimes.
Maybe he doesn’t regret his former political allegiances as much as he claims, so he’s trying to prevent others from being held accountable.
” She looks at Ada. “Might he know Dietrich? Did a man named Klaus Stieber ever attend one of Mother’s gatherings? ”
“Klaus Stieber . . .” After pondering for a moment, Ada shakes her head. “If so, I don’t remember him, but there were too
many for me to remember them all. Either way, if Stieber is trying to stop us, perhaps that’s a sign we should move forward,
so he’ll be too late. Is there an agent you trust to take the negatives?”
Ingrid nods. “Hattie is seeing a fellow who has been helpful. After your trial, we can give the negatives to him.”
With their plan established, they have no more time to delay before the trial, so they go downstairs, where Gordon is waiting.
When he notices Ingrid, he tenses, but before Ada can reassure him, Ingrid steps forward.
“When we have time, I will give you a detailed explanation and a thorough apology. No one was fully honest with me about the
work I was doing, but I was not fully honest with you either. You have been so good to me and my sister, and I’m so sorry
for betraying your kindness and trust, and for how appallingly you’ve been treated.”
Gordon looks from Ingrid to Ada, the crease in his brow softening in understanding. He gives Ingrid’s shoulder a reassuring
squeeze, then they follow him into the waiting car. Yet throughout the drive, the tension in Ada’s stomach is not due to whatever
awaits her in the courtroom. It’s due to the man who attacked her sister, the war crimes case they started and must finish.
But if Agent Stieber is trying to stop them, how many more former Nazis working for the FBI will support his efforts?
Upon reaching their destination, her concerns are abruptly pushed aside when Gordon goes ahead to find his seat and Ada is moments away from entering the courtroom, where a handful of suited men linger by the doors.
One face drags Ada back to a cold cell in the Oranjehotel, and she is that girl again, threatened and stripped and tormented and surrounded by men.
She can’t tell if she’s still walking, if terror is etched on her face, if she’s gasping or staying quiet, until a tight grip on her forearm drags her around a corner and out of sight, followed by Ingrid’s urgent whisper.
“Oh God, he’s here. My handler. That’s Agent Stieber, right over there.”
Ada does not need to ask which man, but she must be entirely certain. “Ingrid . . . does Stieber have any defining marks?
Such as—” Ada can’t say it, must say it. “Such as a scar?”
Ingrid pales. “A long, horizontal scar across his neck. How did you know that?” The look in her eyes says she already knows
the answer.
All this time, he’s been right there. All this time, she hasn’t known.
“It’s him . . . Your handler, it’s him. Klaus Stieber is Gregor Dietrich.”
Ingrid is already pacing, hands pressed to her temples. “Damn it all . . . He’s got my bloody files, for God’s sake.” She
stops abruptly. “He knows everything.”
Perhaps he’s known all along. If Dietrich has been sending messages to Ada, he’s been watching them, perhaps suspected that
Ingrid had copies of the documents Ada handed over to Mother, likely noticed the missing negatives were not among the surrendered
materials. Which means he will be looking for the negatives and any remaining copies that might still exist. For more evidence
that needs destroying.
Except Mother said they lost touch after the war. She might not know Dietrich has been watching them. They might not be working
together. Dietrich becoming Ingrid’s assigned handler and Mother reconnecting with Ada to recover the documents might be merely
coincidence.
But Mother has been known to lie.
“Maybe that’s why he never came for the evidence . . . because of my hearing, because I would have recognized him and we would have realized who your handler was. He had to wait until the case was complete. And now that it is—”
“He’s not hiding anymore,” Ingrid finishes, the words tight, then she steals a discreet glance around the corner. “You can’t
go over there.”
“I have no choice. Stay here. I’ll be fine—they’re just waiting to take me inside,” she says, cutting off Ingrid’s protests.
“If Dietrich sees you, he might try to keep you out.”
Ingrid scowls in clear disapproval of the plan, but she nods. “You’ll be all right.”
Feeble reassurance, but Ada is grateful for it anyway. Then, drawing a breath, she proceeds, walking to meet Dietrich because
she must. She keeps her expression neutral, but he will notice the tremble in her clenched fists, will know the sight of him
is enough to conjure every word, every touch, every horrible moment of those years under occupation.