The computer waited for him to acknowledge, but the young East German
stood mute. Twenty times that day he had thought he could be brought
no lower. And yet the picture froze his heart.
The woman, dark-haired and young, stood clutching her child in the
attitude of a protective Madonna. But for the field, the German
soldier, and the mother and child, there was nothing to be seen. A
moment frozen in time. The soldier, legs spread and planted in perfect
firing form, without the slightest sign of hesitation, had aimed his
rifle and fired at her head. He must have fired because the woman's
bare feet were lifted an inch or two above the ground. The woman still
shielded the tiny child..... Apparently he had opted not to try to
kill them both with a single bullet, though it might have been done
with a shot through her back. This way was surer.
Brunner looked closer. Was there a hint of doubt in the soldier's
face? No. He had only closed his eyes in reflex to the gun's recoil.
Equivocation, splitting hairs. It didn't matter in the least. The
terror and death of the innocents were the same.
He began to feel sick again, and his task was not yet completed.
"Acknowledge," he said, almost swooning. The terminal read clearly: