“I don’t understand. How did a Czech patriot fall in love with a German woman?”

  “They had known each other since childhood. My grandfather worked in the German Embassy in Prague. I don’t believe my grandparents ever approved of my father, but they adored me.”

  “And so you wanted to be German?”

  Kateřina shrugged. “I wanted the easy life until I saw it was not easy on my father when I returned with all my fine things.”

  “And your mother and grandparents now?”

  “My mother died when I was nine. After that, I went to see my grandparents only once. I knew how much it made my father unhappy. One night, not long after my return, I heard this horrible wailing. I left my room and saw my father in the living room. He was kneeling, and a broken picture frame lay before him. Glass shards spread over the floor, and my father scrambled to pick them up as if not realizing they were cutting him. Blood dripped from his fingers, pooling in dark puddles on the floor.” She pressed her eyes closed.

  “What happened?”

  “I went to him. I touched his shoulder and told him I missed her too. In my desperation to ease his pain, I told him I wouldn’t go to Germany anymore. I believed I needed to stay to make him happy, to make up for my mother’s death.”

  Josef’s eyes reflected compassion, and she quickly turned away.

  “What did he say when you told him that?”

  “At first, nothing.” Kateřina’s voice wavered. “But as I wondered if I had even spoken, my father looked my way. His eyes held a vacant expression. There was a deadness in his gaze. It felt as though I had become invisible to him.”

  “Do you still feel invisible to him?”

  “I’d be lying to say I didn’t.”

  “Is that why you became a reporter?”

  “Maybe so.” Kateřina pressed her fingertips to her forehead and then rubbed her eyes as if that would stop the tears from coming. “Maybe I believed that since he seemed to look right through me, my words in print would make a difference.”

  “Have they?”

  She paused. “No, not at all,” she admitted. “But maybe things aren’t as complete as they seem. I think he is fighting the war the only way he knows how.”

  “That’s not fighting. That’s hiding,” Josef said, but then felt a pang of guilt. He had once accused Grandfather of the same thing. And Grandfather had been fighting in his own way, which had now given them a chance at doing good. “Maybe you are right. You never know what a person is thinking. You can try to guess based on their actions, but it is easy to get wrong.”

  “I think he’s protecting the Czech people. Think of the lives lost by these reprisals. Maybe instead of stirring the pot, he’s attempting to lull the Czech citizens into a drowsy state. The less they know, the less they’ll fight, the less they’ll die.”

  “I understand, but what good is that? Is it better to live under German rule than to die knowing you’re fighting for your country’s freedom?” He winced. The words were easy to say until lives were lost.

  “I know that,” she said quietly. “I believe he does too. You’ve already risked so much in trusting me. I shouldn’t be asking any more of you. But let me do this. Please.”

  Josef slowly nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

  The usual sounds of typewriters and excited mutterings were noticeably absent as Kateřina stepped into the newsroom. The place was dark except for a singular lamp at the back, from Father’s office. Her legs trembled as she walked the path lit by the open door. Her footsteps were almost as loud as her beating heart in her ears as she knocked.

  “Who is it?” he demanded with unexpected intensity. “Evka? What do you want now?”

  Evka? “No, it’s me, Father.” Her voice cracked at first, but she strengthened it partway through her words. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Oh, Kateřina.” His voice softened. “Come in.”

  She pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside. Her father was groomed and alert, odd for this time of night.

  “Why are you back?” he said coldly.

  “A lot has happened,” she said. “I have been following a story on my own, and—”

  “You what?” He stood up out of his chair.

  “It does not matter. I am not bringing it to print. Not yet.” She moved to a chair in front of the desk and sat down. Her father narrowed his eyes and sank back into his seat. After a moment of quiet, she saw his eyes grow larger.

  “Are you in trouble?” A slight quiver weakened his voice.

  “No. But I need your help.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out two pieces of documentation. Forgeries that the rebels had been making for their members. “These men need boarding passes onto a German train. It leaves in eight days, in the early afternoon.”

  Father’s eyebrows pinched as he read over the documents. “Who are these men?”

  “They are not real,” she said softly. “These papers are forgeries. But the men who intend to use these must be aboard that train. Lives are at stake.”

  She waited for the outburst of screaming and shouting as he demanded to know what she had gotten mixed up in. She even readied herself for a slap or for him to forcibly move her and lock her away somewhere where she could not cause trouble.

  But Father sat in silence, reading the documents. “You came to me. Why?”

  “I know you can help. And I believe you will.”

  “I would be committing a great offense to the Germans,” he said slowly. “If they find out, it will all be over. They would not take just me; they would take you, too. You understand that, right? You know the cost you are asking me to pay?”

  “Yes.”

  It was another few minutes of silence. She wanted to beg or plead. But she wouldn’t. Josef had given her many opportunities to back away from all of this. Her father had to choose for himself whether or not he would risk his life to try and save others.

  “As your father, I cannot allow it,” he said. “The price is too high.”

  She nodded and took the documents back. “Good night, Father.” She rose from her seat and started toward the door.

  “Kateřina.”

  She froze and closed her eyes.

  “This is real, isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “I see.” He let out a sigh. “I have been here before. Far too many times. Over and over the question is posed to me. Will I do the right thing, or will I keep those near me safe?”

  Kateřina turned. His head hung. She had seen him like this before. The day her mother died. Years of being a cold, uncaring man had passed since then, but it was clear this pain was still inside of him. He must have been carrying it with him every single day.

  “Why must it be me?” he asked slowly. “Couldn’t you have asked someone, anyone else? At least then I could work to save you from your choices. Why must I always be the one to have to choose?”

  She stared, mouth agape.

  “I cannot approve of this.” He choked on the words. “I disapprove of what you are doing.” He paused and then continued. “But I will help you. Where do they need to go?”

  She held out the documents to her father. “It doesn’t matter as long as they are aboard that train. Whichever way that draws the least suspicion.”

  Her father took them once more. “Just the two of them?”

  “That is all we have.” She hesitated, unsure how much she should tell. “Others and I will be outside of the train. There are not many of us. Two will be enough, or it won’t.”

  He nodded.

  Finally he said, “I can get those passes. But there is still a chance they will be arrested. Security has grown tight these past few weeks since the attack.”

  “That will be up to them. I trust them.”

  Her father wrote down various details from the forged identities and then returned them to her. “I will place the passes on your pillow tomorrow at noon. Do not bring them here.”

  Those words struck her like a knife. “Father, is there something I should know?”

  He shook his head. “Focus on your task. Leave this place to me. Now go, and don’t be seen.”

  Kateřina resumed her exit but paused. “Thank you, Father.”

  He didn’t respond. She didn’t need him to. As she walked back into the dark of the night, she prayed for his safety. For the safety of all involved.

  Saturday, 20 June 1942

  Prague, Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia

  A train unlike anything Josef had ever seen stretched before him. Tall, thick, and covered with giant metal pipes releasing puffs of pressurized steam through valves. He had heard of this monstrosity, but this was the first time he had witnessed it. Rumors claimed it would transport anything the Germans needed to move during wartime. It could withstand attack from a modern military and give back as good as it took. As though to prove that point, mounted gun stations rotated on the top of every few carriages.

  The train stretched beyond what he could see down the tracks. It was a lot of carriages, a lot of distance to search and secure before the train got to where the rebels were waiting. Where, hopefully, a fleet of automobiles would be waiting to take the prisoners to freedom. An unlikely prospect, as they’d had little time to prepare. But that was their job, Nikolai’s job. Josef had to trust them to do what they could, and it was up to him to ensure there were prisoners alive to save.

  Despite the death hovering around its metal shell, passengers waited to board the vessel, gossiping or exchanging idle talk about what meal they would choose aboard the train or their evening plans once they arrived at their destinations. Josef’s stomach churned. Did they know what other purposes the train had? He couldn’t imagine a sane person caring so little for human lives. They must be ignorant, right?

  He tried to push recent news out of his mind. Just days ago, most of the other men who’d plotted and executed the assassination attempt against Heydrich were dead. The Germans also executed Alois Eliáš, the former prime minister of Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, for resistance work. There were few men left to stand against the Nazi horror—and even the head of state had been eliminated—which made today’s efforts even more critical.

  Josef took stock of himself, noting his self-crafted tools and a concealed singular pistol. Hopelessly outgunned wouldn’t begin to describe how he felt. He had to focus on Hermina and the others to find the courage to step into the line to board.

  Think of all who fought to get you here.

  Just as she promised, Kateřina had managed to get him boarding passes. A German propagandist had aided in their effort to save Jewish lives. That alone invigorated him. There were more out there willing to risk themselves for their community than he expected. He could not let them down.

  Soldiers inspected everyone who tried to board, German or otherwise. While it was not immediately apparent that Josef was a Jew, he still worried whether or not his false identification would pass scrutiny.

  Stay composed, he reminded himself. If you carry yourself as if you belong, others will believe you do. Summoning all his acting prowess, he tried to project impatience with the tedious boarding process rather than his underlying anxiety. He tapped his foot, a gesture that eased some of his nervousness, and checked his pocket watch.

  His actions were not unnoticed by the Germans, who were slightly insulted at his impatience. A little offended was a much better reaction than suspicious. With any luck, they had already profiled him as a nuisance rather than someone to be worried about. They were reluctant to deal with him as his turn to be searched came up, and he let out a small scoff. “Efficient as always, I see.”

  He’d chosen a risky approach. Still, he couldn’t deny the satisfaction that came from a chance to insult a German soldier to his face. The soldier before him scowled and snatched Josef’s satchel to search through it. Another soldier flatly received his identification and boarding pass, which Josef provided without hesitation or second glance.

  “Careful with that!” Josef barked as the first soldier retrieved a device from his bag. It resembled a hand-cranked handlight. He found himself fully taking character as he unleashed an unasked-for explanation into the finer apparatuses of this mechanical handlight, aside from his personal modifications and how easily the soldier could break the “expensive” device. The result was as he hoped as the soldier tossed it back into his bag before roughly shoving the whole satchel into his arms.

  “Just get on and keep quiet.” They returned his boarding pass and identification.

  Josef let out another small huff and climbed onboard. Only after he stepped up onto the train and out of view of the German guards did the reality of the situation come crashing back onto him. A bead of sweat dripped down his brow, and he sent a quick prayer of thanks for his body’s delayed reaction to the stress. His infiltration was a complete success. He didn’t receive a single glance as he chose a seat at the furthest end of the carriage.

  Once seated, he glanced at the satchel he had brought himself. The weapons he had been working on for the past few years were all intended to seem ordinary to the uninformed viewer. They were pretty impressive, mostly simple tricks to buy time when needed. He didn’t have anything strong enough to stop a train this size. In that, his grandfather’s creation had far outclassed anything he had the ability to create.

  That’s if Kateřina can get Golem to actually stop this train.

  That was his primary worry. He had given Kateřina the commanding device to force the creature to stop the train in its tracks. But would she instead try to convince it to protect the prisoners inside? Talk to it? Was it even capable of that level of abstract instruction?

  He shook himself. He couldn’t waste any of his energy worrying about something far beyond his control. It was up to him to secure the prisoners on the back of the train. As long as soldiers controlled those carriages, everything else would be pointless. Josef steeled himself and took stock of his situation to decide the best course of action from his current position.

  As far as he could tell, the soldiers were not actively monitoring the passenger coach. They had little reason to suspect anyone would try to do something as crazy as Josef planned, so moving past a few soldiers was not too dangerous. But once he approached the rear end of the train, he would be prepared to defend himself at a moment’s notice.

  And as for Petr. He had yet to see him board. Perhaps he’d gotten onto a different carriage? Or maybe he was prevented from boarding altogether. Even worse: arrested at the security checkpoint. He silently prayed for the man’s well-being.

  The train horn boomed throughout the chamber. It was not the shrill whistle he was used to hearing from the old trains that usually came through Prague. This was a deep droning that was more like the higher-pitched horn one might hear from a large carrier ship. At least, as best he could remember. He had little experience with boats while living in the landlocked country of Czechoslovakia. Still, he found the noise this horn made far more haunting.

  Shortly after came a few loud thunks of interlocking metal, and the train accelerated ever so slowly. He scooted over in the seat and glanced out the window. They would be close to the center of town for a little while. If he didn’t want any outside interference, he might need to wait before he made his move. He feigned boredom as he watched the city outside the window. The soldiers outside all had their backs to the train as it left. They had no reason to be concerned. They likely felt safer right now than they usually did. After all, who would ever think of challenging their powerful war train?

  This fact spurred him to move sooner rather than later. He casually rose from his seat, walked toward his coach’s back door, and peered through the small glass window separating his coach from the next. No one stood guard, so he cautiously entered the open air. The otherwise muffled sounds of the thundering train came into full force as he opened the door and stepped through, closing the door behind him.

  He quietly stepped toward the next carriage. Thankfully, it was a freight unit, and no visible soldiers would bar his path. Valuing swiftness in this situation, he entered this carriage as well and made his way between the tall wooden containers. As he stepped around a giant crate, he faced a German soldier reclining on a small chair. The German seemed to have heard the door open, but his eyebrows shot up when he spotted Josef.

  Heart racing, Josef retrieved his hammer from the inside of his coat. This reaction was a mistake. The soldier rushed for his own weapon at the side of his chair. Josef lashed out with his hammer, instinctively twisting the hilt and activating the mechanism built inside. Flames spewed from the back of his hammer and past his side in a short burst, propelling the hammer through the air. It struck the German soldier on the side of his head. A sickening crack sounded, louder even than the clack of the train. The soldier slumped to the ground.

  Josef stumbled as he fought against the momentum from his weapon. His heart raced, and he stared at the body, shocked. He had killed a man. He had never done it before, but he didn’t regret it. Not when carriages full of his people were pulled a few coaches away. However, it did mean he had a complication now. It would only be a matter of time before this soldier was found or reported missing. He’d need to move faster.

  There was blood on the floor. Even if Josef hid the body, the alarm would be raised. There needed to be another way. His eyes drifted to the boxes around the compartment. They were secured but seemingly in haste. He loosened a nearby set of straps then dropped a medium-sized box on the floor next to the fallen soldier’s head. With any luck, the staged “accident” might cause a diversion believable enough to buy him time to get to the back of the train.

  I need to be more careful now. He hurried past the scene of his blunder. I can’t afford another mistake like that.