Fire and Steel, Volume 6

by Gerald N. Lund

  “I see. So, then—”

  “Yes, your assumption is correct. Your visit was certainly not a typical one.”

  “That’s what I thought. Assumption two. I was taken in to meet the British Liaison Officer, one Mr. Nigel McKensie, who immediately launched into a conversation in perfect German. My assumption is that Nigel McKensie is not your real name and that you aren’t really a liaison officer between Germany and America.”

  “Assumption two is wrong on both counts. Nigel is the name I received at birth, and I really do liaise, as the French like to say.”

  “Hmm. Assumption three. In my nearly hour-long conversation with you, and then with Cassie coming in as well, you seemed to be especially interested in my German heritage, including how I had come to speak fluent German. So I am assuming that there’s something more going on here than meets the eye.”

  “Assumption three is correct.” Benji could tell from his voice that Nigel seemed to be enjoying this.

  As he looked at his notepad again, Lisa reached down and took the pen from him. She bent down and scribbled something in the upper corner. He squinted at it. “Do you always think in numbered lists?”

  He smiled up at her. “Yup!” he mouthed. Then, “Assumption four. Nigel’s German was flawless, as was yours, Cassie, though I couldn’t place your accent.”

  “But you did Nigel’s?”

  “Absolutely. Berliner.”

  Cassie laughed, pleased with that. “Very good. Yes, Nigel’s father was in the foreign service and was stationed in Berlin for several years when Nigel was a boy. Mine is from Frankfurt. My father was a banker with Lloyd’s Bank of London. We lived in Germany until I was twelve.”

  “Okay, two more. Neither one of you asked me a single question about my passport and why I needed a visa. Instead, we had a broad-ranging conversation covering dozens of various topics. Almost like you were . . . um . . . maybe testing the extent of my vocabulary?”

  Nigel laughed aloud. “Ah, Cassie, I think we may have underestimated Mr. Westland.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “It is,” Cassie replied. “And your final assumption?”

  “As I was about to leave, Nigel casually handed me his business card, wrote his personal number on the back, and invited me to call him any time. That too is probably not the usual send-off people get when they come there?”

  “You could say that, all right,” Nigel chuckled. “So, what conclusion did you draw from those assumptions?”

  Benji hesitated, then decided he needed to be honest, especially knowing what was coming next. “I’m not quite sure how to say it, so I’ll just put it this way. I have been wondering if all of that German interchange was because maybe you were evaluating me for something more than whether or not you should issue me the visa.”

  “I see,” Nigel said. Which was a totally noncommital answer.

  “Very perceptive,” Cassie added. “So, Nigel tells me you have some kind of a problem you could maybe use our help on.”

  “I think that is an understatement,” Lisa said. “Are you ready?”

  Benji handed the mouthpiece to Lisa to take over. He would come in from time to time to add details or clarify a point, but mostly she just talked, keeping remarkable aplomb as she described what had happened that day. Nigel and Cassie interrupted a few times to ask questions but mostly just listened. Benji had the distinct impression that both were taking notes.

  When Lisa finally finished, the line went quiet. Then Cassie spoke, and very quietly. “That is horrible. Oh, Lisa, you must be heartbroken. I’m so sorry.”

  “You have our deepest sympathy,” Nigel added, “and Cassie and I assure you that we will do all in our power to help you. Could you give us another half an hour? We’ll make some inquiries and call you back. Would that be all right?”

  “Of course. We—”

  “All right. Stay close by. We will get back to you no later than six your time.”

  5:56 p.m.

  Benji and Lisa were both standing inside the booth when the phone rang. Benji snatched up the mouthpiece. “This is Benji.”

  “Is Lisa there with you?” It was Cassie.

  “I’m right here,” Lisa answered.

  “All right,” Nigel said, his voice clipped and businesslike. “A couple of questions for you first. Do you have a car, or did you come down by train?”

  “I have the family car,” Lisa replied.

  “That’s good. Benji, do you have your passport and other travel documents with you?”

  “Uh . . . yeah. I’ve got my travel bag. That’s everything I own.”

  “Good. Here’s what we need you to do. You are about an hour’s drive from Zurich, Switzerland.”

  That brought both of their heads up.

  “We just checked. There is a British Airways flight from Zurich to London leaving at 8:45 tonight. You’ll have to hurry to—”

  “London?” Benji and Lisa blurted at the same time.

  “Yes. We are going to try and help your family, Lisa, but to do that we need Benji up here as quickly as possible.”

  She started shaking her head. “For how long?”

  “A few days. Maybe a week. No more. We’re sorry, Lisa. But it’s not like we can just call you whenever we have questions. We have sources we can tap in Germany, but we can’t ask them to go on a general fishing expedition. We have to give them specific things to look for. So we need Benji here to help us to know what we’re even looking for.” Nigel hesitated. “We debated asking you to fly up too, because you are the one who actually went through it all, but. . . .”

  “I know, I know. Flying is expensive.”

  “That’s not it at all,” he said soberly. “If the Gestapo were to somehow find out that you flew to London, that would not be good. Not for you. Not for your family.”

  “Oh,” Lisa said meekly.

  “And your family also needs you right now, Lisa,” Cassie added. “Especially your mother. This is going to be a very difficult time for all of you. And Leyna. You’re all she’s got right now.”

  “Yes, and I gave her my word I would be back tonight.”

  “We’ll fly Benji back as soon as we’re done,” Nigel said. “Get him back to you in a couple of hours instead of a couple of days on the ferry and trains.”

  “We think we may have some possible solutions,” Cassie said, “but it’s going to take some time to see if we can make them work. And once Benji goes back to Munich, it’s going to be a challenge communicating with you two. We certainly can’t ring you up at home or have you running down to Vaduz every day.”

  “By the way,” Nigel interrupted, “did you have to go through any checkpoints on the way down there?”

  “No. The Austrian border was totally open.”

  “That’s good,” Nigel said. “We won’t only be looking into what’s happened with your father and Alemann Zeidner. We’re going to see what we can find out about Richelle and Erika, too.”

  Lisa gave a low cry of joy. “You can do that from there?”

  “We hope so. Fortunately, after Prime Minister Chamberlain’s so-called triumph at Munich last month, diplomatic relations between our two counties are going much more smoothly than normal. But we’re not sure.”

  “Lisa?” It was Cassie again. “Are you all right with driving Benji to Zurich, then driving all the way home tonight?”

  There was no hesitation. “Yes. If you can help us, I’ll do anything.”

  “Then leave immediately,” Nigel said. “Benji, go to the British Airways counter. We’ll have your ticket there and some instructions for you as well. And one of us will meet you at Heathrow when you land.”

  Lisa grabbed the phone from Benji. “Thank you. Both of you. You have given us hope.”

  “We hope to meet you soon, Lisa,” Cassie said warmly. “Ma
y God be with you and your family in this terrible hour. We’ll be praying for you.”

  November 21, 1938, 6:55 p.m.—Eckhardt Home

  “Lisa! Lisa!” Rikki’s shriek echoed down the hallway.

  Lisa turned to Jo and shook her head. “She’s got the lungs of a buffalo.” Then she cupped her hand to her mouth. “I’m in the bedroom, Rikki. With Jo and Leyna.”

  A moment later the door burst open and her sister was there, panting heavily. “Come quick, Lisa.” Gasp. “The phone.” Another gasp. “Benji.”

  Lisa was out of her chair and racing down the hall for the kitchen. Her grandmother was there talking quietly into the phone. As Lisa burst in, she said, “Here she is,” and handed Lisa the phone with a broad smile.

  “Benji, is it really you?”

  “It is, Schatzi. I’m back.”

  “Why haven’t you called me? Wait!” She gasped. “You’re here? In Munich?”

  “Ja, ja. I just landed at the airport about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “I think you know why. No time to call. Look, I’m sharing a taxi with a couple I just met at the airport. I’ll be there in half an hour.” And he hung up.

  She stared at the phone in disbelief. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned. It was her grandmother. “Lisa, I know how anxious you are to see—”

  “He hung up on me, Oma.”

  Her fingers dug softly into Lisa’s flesh. “These are not normal times, Liebchen,” she hissed. “Think!”

  Lisa was shocked. That was as sharply as she could remember her grandmother ever speaking to her. Oma took the phone from her, put a finger to her lips, listened for a moment, then hung it up. She let go of Lisa’s shoulder and brushed her cheek with the back of one finger. “He’s back, Lisa. Just be thankful for that.”

  Lisa’s face went hot as understanding came. She hadn’t even thought about who might be listening. Shame washed over her as she looked at her grandmother. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Inga’s eyes were sad. “As I said, my dear, these are not normal times.”

  7:32 p.m.

  The three youngest Eckhardts were at the window, noses pressed against the glass. Niko saw it first. “Car coming. It’s a taxicab.”

  “It is, it is!” Hans Otto cried. “It’s him.”

  Emilee frowned. “All right, children. Come away from the window. Don’t gawk.”

  Leyna, Jo, and Lisa hurriedly came out from the kitchen. Lisa was removing an apron.

  “Wait!” Hans Otto cried as he pulled the curtain back. “He’s got somebody with him.” He leaned in closer. “Two people?”

  Emilee stomped her foot. “Hans Otto!’

  He took one last look, then let the curtain drop. “It’s a man and a woman.”

  They all stood together as Benji came through the door, already removing his overcoat. He hung it on a hook, then turned back and opened the door wider. A moment later Hans Otto was proven correct. A well-dressed couple came in. Benji brought them forward.

  “Mama Emilee, Oma Inga, may I introduce you to Herr Dietrich von Bergau and his wife, Frau Katya von Bergau, from Dusseldorf. They are en route to Rome on holiday, but their flight doesn’t leave until the morning. They were kind enough to share a taxi with me. Emilee, we haven’t had supper. Would you mind if they ate with us? I hope it is all right, but they have no plans for dinner. So I asked if they would like to have dinner with us before going on to their hotel.”

  Lisa nearly cried aloud. He had invited them to dinner? Without asking first?

  Frau Bergau stepped forward. “We told our new friend, Benjamin, that it would be too much of an imposition and—”

  Lisa didn’t hear the rest. It was the same voice she had spoken with over the phone three nights before. It was Cassie, but speaking perfect German.

  “Of course,” Emilee said, smiling brightly.

  Herr Bergau was apologetic. “We do not wish to intrude.”

  Lisa nearly shouted it out. Nigel! It was Nigel’s voice.

  “Nonsense,” Emilee said. “Pot roast is Benji’s favorite, and knowing how much he eats, we made plenty. Come in, come in. Willkommen!”

  November 21, 1938, 8:35 p.m.—Eckhardt Home

  As Lisa came back into the living room, she checked to make sure the blinds were down, just as she had done every night now since her father’s death. It gave her the creeps to think that people on the outside could be watching them. Especially if some of them were Gestapo.

  Benji patted the couch, and she came over and sat down beside him, taking his hand. Next to Benji, Emilee and Inga sat together. As they were getting settled, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Did you go to church yesterday?”

  Lisa shook her head. “Nor last week, either. Mama can’t bear the thought of having to talk to everyone and have them asking about what happened.”

  “I don’t blame her. People can be pretty insensitive sometimes.”

  “President Enzenberger has been wonderful. He’s been here several times. He’ll take care of all the funeral arrangements once they release Papa’s body.”

  “Wait. You still haven’t had the funeral? Why?”

  “Because the Gestapo is saying that their investigation isn’t through and. . . .” Tears welled up. “Which makes it so hard on Mama. To not be able to lay him to rest.” She took his hand and clung to it. “But at least you’re back now.”

  The Eckhardts and Benji were seated on the sofa. Herr and Frau Bergau—Benji had made it clear that they were not to reveal their real names—were seated in front of the fireplace. Nigel looked at Cassie, who nodded. Then he began to speak. “There is something I would like you to understand before we begin. Though we didn’t know each other back then, both Frau Bergau and I spent many of our early years here in Germany. We have a deep love for Germany. We have a deep love for the German people. Speaking German comes almost as naturally to us as it does to you who were born here. And, with you, we weep at what is happening to this beautiful land.” His gaze moved from face to face. “Frau Bergau and I find ourselves barely able to fathom the sorrow and loss you and the Zeidner family have experienced. Nor can we comprehend the depravity that now possesses the leaders of this nation.”

  He stopped, looking first at Emilee, then Inga, and finally Lisa. “From the depths of my soul, I wish that Frau Bergau and I had come only to mourn with you, to weep with you, to console you in your grief. But circumstances are such that we must postpone our mourning for now. What we are about to say and do may seem cruel and unfeeling in your hour of tragedy, but the situation is too urgent, too critical for us to wait.”

  “We understand,” Emilee said softly. “And we know there are hard things to do. We cannot express what it means to us that you have come to help us. We recognize that this is not just a time of grieving, but an hour of danger.”

  Benji spoke then. “We all agree that the hand of Divine Providence is in what transpired there, including my going to the American embassy in the first place. And we all are deeply moved that you have come to help.”

  Inga nodded. “Herr and Frau Bergau, there is no need for an apology. You have brought hope where there was no hope, and that is a gift of enormous worth to our family.”

  “Thank you,” Nigel said, deeply moved. “There are realities that we must face, and it is urgent that we do so now. So first, let me briefly catch you up on what is happening in the outside world. It disgusts me to have to talk about this, but Benji has told us that your family has tried to shut out the world while you grieve. And what is happening out there has direct relevance to the situation that we are facing.”

  “We understand,” Emilee said.

  Nigel spoke in a low voice. “One would think that even the worst of men would slink away and hide their faces in shame after being part
of something so ugly, so unthinkable, as what happened on Kristallnacht. Thousands of synagogues, temples, businesses, shops, and homes were burned or destroyed. Hundreds were killed. Hundreds more were shamed and humiliated and degraded. And thirty thousand Jews were dragged from their beds or rounded up on the streets and are now behind bars. Why? Because they are Jews? So that their properties could more easily be looted and seized? Surely, such breadth of evil should have cast a pall upon this nation unlike anything since the Great War. Yet one day later, while the fires are still smouldering, Herr Hermann Goering, second only to Hitler himself, goes before the people. To confess the nation’s crimes? To apologize for the barbarity that swept through our streets? To call for justice to put things right?

  “Oh, no. While ashes still cover the streets and blood is still drying on our pavement, his cry is for a different kind of justice. Herr Goering had the unmitigated effrontery to say that since it was a Jew that assassinated your German diplomat in Paris, then it is the Jews of Germany who are to blame for Kristallnacht. And he demands that they be punished accordingly. Therefore, just two days after the horror of Kristallnacht, Germany has a new law that goes into effect immediately. It is called the Regulation for the Elimination of the Jews from the Economic Life of Germany.”

  “Wait!” Inga cried. “Elimination? How is that possible?”

  Nigel continued grimly. “Since the law holds the Jews responsible for the carnage of the Night of Broken Glass, they are the ones who must pay for all damages.” As they all gasped, he rushed on. “Yes, the Jewish grocer who had his shop looted then burned now has to pay for the damage he caused, the destruction he supposedly foisted on himself. If the buildings were insured, then what reparation the insurance company pays him must be immediately turned over to the Reich. Note that: not to the owner of the building. To the government.”

  “Unbelievable,” Inga said, sick at heart. “As if they have not already suffered enough.”

  Cassie spoke up now. “With Goering leading out, they are now talking about passing another law by the end of the month. That one will be called the Aryanization of All Jewish-Owned Shops and Business. A fancy way of saying that all Jews who own any kind of business will be stripped of their property, and the businesses will be given to ‘true Germans.’”