The Girl from Berlin, #1 Page 19

  Heinrich didn’t want me to go at first, but I told him that I just couldn’t stay home all by myself with my parents gone, and Ursula leaving with Max as well. The other reason was that I was hoping to see Norbert, who was now serving in the Waffen-SS. When he came by to say goodbye in full, front uniform, I hugged him tightly and didn’t want to let go. He told me that he hated his uniform already.

  After telling Magda for probably the millionth time not to forget to feed and walk Rolf and our old and grey-faced Milo, who we took in after my family’s departure, we finally picked up our suitcases and headed to the same train station where I’d said goodbye to my parents just three months ago. It was much cooler now, and I thanked God that this time there were no soldiers with batons around.

  I had never travelled before and was very excited to get on a train and leave for a completely different country. Poland sounded almost exotic to me. Max and Ursula were sharing a coupe with us, and having them around made my first trip abroad absolutely unforgettable.

  I had just finished my lunch and was enjoying my coffee, looking through the pages of today’s paper. The day outside the window of the hotel we stayed at was still warm like in summer, a popular song was playing on the radio and I was waiting for Ursula to come over so we could walk around the city again. We’d already been to two galleries, discovered a beautiful park, a whole bunch of shops and decent restaurants, and even dragged our husbands, unwillingly, to the Opera House.

  My blissful state of mind was rudely interrupted by the slam of the door. I knew that Heinrich was supposed to be at his meetings at the headquarters till at least four. I got up from the bed, put my coffee cup onto a little tray next to me, and closed my gown just in case.

  “Annalise! Are you home?” It was Heinrich’s voice.

  “I’m in the bedroom.”

  He almost ran in and quickly looked around.

  “Are you alone?”

  What kind of a stupid question was that?

  “No, my lover is in the shower.” I sarcastically raised my eyebrow at him. He didn’t smile and instead impatiently shook his head.

  “I’m serious. Is Ursula in her suite?”

  “Yes, but I’m waiting for her to come over any minute now. Why?”

  “I need you to send something for me. It’s very important.”

  “Do you want me to go to the post office for you?” I was a little confused with his more than odd behavior.

  “What post office, what are you talking about?”

  “You just said to ‘send’ something for you.”

  “Yes. Send.”

  I wasn’t getting it.

  “Annalise, I need you to go to one of my connections’ apartment and send something for me. The message. Understand?”

  I finally understood what he was trying to tell me.

  “A radio message?” I whispered. Just in case. We always whispered. Half of Germany whisper-talked now.

  “Yes. Do you remember how to use the radio?”

  “Yes.” Ingrid, Heinrich’s American fellow intelligence agent, spent more than three weeks with me making sure that I learned the Morse code by heart, and could use the radio even with my eyes closed and in the middle of the night.

  “Good. Here’s the address.” Heinrich picked up a little notepad with the hotel’s monogram on it from the nightstand, tore one page off, and quickly wrote an address on it. “It’s not too far from that restaurant where you liked the fish, remember?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. Don’t ask anybody for directions, just walk around till you see the street with this name on it. Then find the house with this number on it, but don’t ask anybody for directions, got it? Or they can remember you and later tell our friends from the Gestapo that you were looking for a house where they caught a signal. Your apartment will be on the top floor, number 57. The key is under the mat, under one of the tiles, it’s loose, so pick it up, get the key and go inside.”

  “Is someone living in there?”

  “No, unfortunately our radio operator got compromised and got called back immediately. This is a safe apartment, the one that we rented just in case. Well… the ‘just in case’ happened.”

  Heinrich quickly took out a paper with a note on it and handed it to me.

  “Learn it by heart. You can’t make a mistake not in one word, not even in a single preposition, otherwise the whole code won’t make any sense. It’s very important that you memorize it word for word.”

  It didn’t make any sense to me already. What was written on that little piece of paper in my husband’s rushed handwriting looked more like verses from a poem, not an important message.

  “What does it even mean?” I looked at him.

  “To you – nothing. Even to the people from the Gestapo in case they intercept it – nothing, because I coded it myself and only an agent at the receiving end in the States knows the code. And to people at the American intelligence service – it’s everything, the information they’ve been long waiting for to share with their British friends about the further plans of our Wehrmacht.” He motioned his head to the direction of the paper. “Don’t waste any time, learn it. I have to burn it after you’re done.”

  Heinrich made me repeat the message five times before he gave me a satisfactory nod, went to the bathroom, burnt the note, and flushed the ashes.

  “I have to go now, before all the ‘big guys’ come back from their lunch and notice that I’m gone. Don’t worry about anything, there’s almost no people from the Gestapo in the city yet, so you’ll have plenty of time to disappear before they intercept the signal. No matter what, don’t run, don’t act nervous… you know the routine.”

  “I do. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Go back to work.”

  Heinrich quickly kissed me on the lips and said, already at the doors, “Be very careful, all right? I love you!”

  “I love you too, Heinrich.”

  My hands in thin satin gloves were shaking. According to one of Ingrid’s many instructions, I always had to wear gloves coming into any conspiracy apartment or especially touching the radio in order not to leave any fingerprints that could easily lead to my arrest. I had been staring at the radio for more than ten minutes already, and was still afraid to touch it. Finding the house and getting inside was the easy part, but now what? It’s one thing to feel an adrenaline rush from pretending to play a cool spy, and quite another to actually become that cool spy. And as soon as I turn the radio transmitter on, my time will start ticking. I felt my stomach tightening up from the nerves.

  Once again I got up from my seat and looked out of the window, making sure that no black cars were patrolling the area. Black cars were always bad news. Not seeing anything suspicious I returned to the table, where the open suitcase with the radio in it was staring at me. I bit my lip and touched the black onyx Catholic cross, tightly hugging my right wrist.

  “Screw it!” I said out loud to myself and flipped the transmitter on. The Russian roulette game started, and I just put a bullet in the revolver.

  I don’t remember when else I was so concentrated on my task. Probably not even when I was dancing a solo part as a prima-ballerina. I had no chance to make a mistake this time and that’s why I was working slowly, counting every little “beep” in my head. After getting a short confirmation, I immediately turned the radio off, took off the headphones and leaned back on the chair. I did it. My heart was racing, and the palms of my hands were sweaty under the thin satin. I let out a deep sigh of relief. I did it. I went to the window again and looked outside. The streets remained silent, but I knew that it could change very soon. I had to get out of there.

  Already at the door I looked back at the suitcase with the radio. Heinrich told me that I had to leave it there and be gone, but for some reason I started contemplating. What if within the next few days Heinrich finds out something even more important? What if he needs to send a message to his agent in the States but won’t be able to?

  I put
my hand on the door knob and started to turn it, but then I made another decision that would change my whole life so drastically very soon. I walked back to the suitcase with the radio, shut it closed, and firmly grabbed the handle. I wasn’t going to leave it for them, I was taking it with me.

  According to my calculations, with so few Gestapo agents around the city I had about twenty to thirty minutes to walk far enough from the house and get back to my hotel at my normal pace and not raise anybody’s suspicion. And there I’d just stick the radio together with our other suitcases until we needed to use it again. Nobody would look for a radio in an SD Standartenführer and his wife’s hotel suite.

  But I miscalculated. I was just turning the corner when I heard the screeching of the tires back at the street I’d just left. Loud banging of several doors, voices screaming commands in German, and heavy boots on the ground left no doubt: the Gestapo was right behind my back. I kept walking toward the big alley I came from, hoping that at least they hadn’t seen me. It should take them now about three to five minutes to search the apartment and the roof to realize that both the operator and the radio were gone. And then they would start looking around for people with suitcases.

  Damn it, damn it, damn it! I need to get rid of this thing! Immediately! But I couldn’t just put it down on the ground and walk away, no matter how big the temptation was. People on the streets would certainly see it and would point me out to the agents right away. There’s a building across the street, I’ll walk inside, leave the suitcase in the hallway and walk out. Yes. That’s my only possible option.

  I tried to make it to the only building standing among the row of private houses as fast as I could, but the tight skirt and high heels didn’t help to move too fast. Plus, the radio in my hand weighed a ton, and I was too terrified to look back to see if they were out there following me yet. I was getting closer to the building, closer to its open door and a dark hallway, I just had to cross the street now. Let all these cars pass by and go.

  But one of the cars didn’t pass me by. It stopped right in front of me and as soon as I saw SS plates on it, I felt my heart stop beating. They got me. The door opened and when I saw the driver getting out, my eyes froze wide open in awe. It was him. Almost seven feet tall, all black uniform, leather, skull and crossbones, with dark burning eyes and scars crossing his face – the leader of the Austrian SS, Gruppenführer Dr. Ernst Kaltenbrunner.

  “Frau Friedmann.” He narrowed his gaze at me, his voice quiet and menacing. “You’re under arrest.”

  That’s it. I’m dead. I tightened the grip on the suitcase so he wouldn’t see my shaking hands. But despite my heart already beating in my throat, I still managed, even though I don’t know how, to ask, “For what?”

  He eyed me for another moment and then burst into laughter.

  “For wearing a skirt like this. You could cause a major accident in the street.”

  What?

  “Excuse me, Herr Gruppenführer?”

  He walked up to me and nodded at the suitcase.

  “What are you doing walking around with this thing? Doesn’t look like a suitable purse for a pretty girl like you.”

  “I just picked it up from the train station. It’s one of our suitcases they accidentally lost,” I said the first lie that came to my head.

  Idiot, I thought to myself right away realizing my mistake. What the hell are you doing here miles away from the station? And the suitcase doesn’t even have a name written on it! Luckily for me, Gruppenführer Kaltenbrunner didn’t notice my slip. Instead he just took the suitcase from my hand.

  “Let me give you a ride then. You shouldn’t be carrying heavy things like that.” He opened his trunk and put the suitcase in it. “What do you have in there? Rocks?”

  “My records and some clothes. Mostly the records.”

  “You’ve brought your records with you?”

  “It’s classical music. I’m a ballerina, and I need them to rehearse while I’m at home.”

  Could I have possibly made a stupider excuse?

  Gruppenführer Kaltenbrunner just chuckled, shook his head, and held the passenger door open for me. “Get in, I’ll drive you to your hotel.”

  “Thank you, Herr Gruppenführer.”

  I got inside his black Mercedes, and he shut the door. In the side view mirror I saw men, who looked like the Gestapo agents, stopping several people and checking their papers. I was relatively safe, if you can call safe sitting in the car of the Austrian SS leader and having your radio in his trunk.

  When he sat beside me and started the car, I nodded in the direction of the Gestapo police. “What’s going on out there?”

  Gruppenführer looked in a rear view mirror and waved his hand. “Who the hell knows? Probably catching some Resistance members. Or looking for Jews. Or just making believe they’re working.”

  I smiled. He seemed to be in a good mood. Now I just have to nicely laugh at his jokes for the rest of the way, and it’ll be over with. Maybe I’ll even survive. I involuntarily touched the Catholic cross on my wrist, its cool stone giving me some confidence. I had my cyanide in it and, surprisingly, it made me feel more or less calm.

  “I thought you were Protestant,” Dr. Kaltenbrunner said, without taking his eyes off the road.

  How does he notice things like that? And how did he even remember that I was Protestant? From my file?

  I shook my head and smiled. “No, I’m Jewish, remember?”

  He laughed. “Right. Did that girl give you any more trouble? I had a very serious talk with her, you know.”

  “Yes, she told me,” I said not without pleasure. Gretchen got exactly what she deserved. “She’s been good since then. You must be very persuasive when you want to, Herr Gruppenführer.”

  “I have my ways with some people.”

  I just remembered that I didn’t give him the name of my hotel. Where was he taking me?

  “Do you mind stopping for a quick snack before I take you to your hotel?” he asked as if reading my mind. “Reichsführer with all his meetings made me miss my lunch, and I’m starving.”

  “Of course, Herr Gruppenführer. I’d love to get a cup of coffee myself.”

  I smiled at him. I’d love to have a drink, that’s what I would really love to have right now, I thought. In less than ten minutes we pulled up to the entrance of one of the fanciest restaurants in the city that seemed to have become a favorite dining spot for the Nazi military elite. The occupiers were certainly happy to enjoy all the perks of being the conquerors.

  Two hours and two bottles of champagne later, I nearly forgot about both the radio and the Gestapo, and was laughing hysterically at Gruppenführer’s story he was telling me.

  “Oh no, that’s so embarrassing! What did you say though?”

  “What would you say if you were leading the raid to get the Marxist leader and instead of him you catch your superior officer with the prostitute? And not even a pretty one?”

  I had to wipe tears from the corners of my eyes; my stomach was already hurting from the laughter.

  “Oh no! But what did you do?”

  “Nothing, I just closed the door and told my people to keep searching the area while I stood on the floor making sure that nobody else would bother that idiot before he finished his business.”

  “He was a character, that guy, huh?”

  “That’s a nice way to put it. No wonder he got shot four years ago. And do you know who shot him?”

  “Probably you.”

  He playfully widened his eyes at me.

  “Me? I would never shoot anybody.”

  “And why don’t I believe that, Herr Gruppenführer?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just a regular politician. I would never hurt anyone.” He was grinning at me, the gaze of his dark brown eyes fixed steadily on mine. I knew exactly who he was, what he was doing, and once again I tried to remind myself that I shouldn’t be getting too comfortable in his presence. But for some reason I felt like a chil
d, who after being told a hundred times not to play with fire, still wants to touch it.

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  “And what did you hear, Frau Friedmann?”

  “A lot of things.”

  “Don’t believe a single word. It’s all rumors and propaganda spread by the anti-government movement.”

  I seriously doubted that someone from the anti-government movement ever left the Gestapo jail alive to start spreading such rumors, but said nothing. Meanwhile Gruppenführer Kaltenbrunner motioned a waiter to bring us another bottle of champagne.

  “Another one? Herr Gruppenführer, I’m drunk as it is and it’s not even dinner time yet.”

  My protest didn’t have any effect on him. “By the time we finish this bottle it’ll be dinner time, so we can start all over again.”

  I covered my eyes with my hand and laughed.

  When he finally pulled up at my hotel, it was already dark out. I was very drunk, very comfortable in my seat and didn’t even feel like getting out. Gruppenführer Kaltenbrunner didn’t seem to be affected by the alcohol as much as I was and was now sitting and looking at me, smiling.

  “Well, I guess I have to get you and your records back to your husband now.”

  “I guess.” I smiled back but didn’t move.

  “You know, I would love to see you dance someday.”

  “Next time you come to Berlin, you are always more than welcome in our theatre, Herr Gruppenführer.”

  He paused for a second, then leaned closer to me and put his hand in a leather glove on my knee.

  “Why don’t you come work for me in Vienna? I can get you a very good position in the office. You’ll have to become a member of the women’s SS, but it’s a formality. And I promise to take very good care of you.”

  I could feel the warmth of his hand even through leather. I didn’t move my leg away even though I knew I should have. I didn’t want to.

  “I appreciate your generous offer very much, Herr Gruppenführer, and I would have gladly accepted it if I wasn’t married. But I’m afraid my place is in Berlin, with my husband.”