Munich Signature

by Bodie Thoene

  Murphy rattled on as if no harsh words had ever been spoken. Bit by bit he told her the details of everything that had happened in New York, from the wonder of Times Square to the arrival of the Darien and the death of the little girl. And then he spoke of his hope for those people and the importance of the Evian Conference next week.

  The dam of his silence had broken, and he hardly noticed that Elisa had no real news to tell him—no concerts to report or trips shopping. She listened to him silently, wishing she could have been part of it all.

  Later they walked hand in hand back to the stranded pool where the stream had been. They made love on a blanket beneath the trees and he quoted Song of Songs to her again, “This is my beloved, and this is my friend.”

  If only you knew, she thought. Oh, darling, if only you could know!

  34

  United Voices

  The sun beat down on their heads as men and women lined up to try out for the Darien Symphony Orchestra. An entire orchestra was required to play Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 in C minor, op. 67. Of course, only the second movement would be performed, but who could know what occasion they might have to perform yet another symphony?

  Those with the quality of strings in their voices were selected in groups of first and second violin, viola, cello, and bass fiddle. Brass and woodwinds were also divided into groups, and then Shimon spent an hour with each group alone in the bow daily as he rehearsed their parts.

  “How does he know all this?” asked Aaron’s younger companion, who was a cello.

  “He played the kettledrums,” Aaron the oboe explained with authority. “He learned everyone’s parts while he waited for his turn to play.”

  So great was the response at the auditions that Shimon doubled the size of the orchestra. When others came and asked to join, he discarded the thought that the orchestra must be a certain number of this or that. In the end he had fifty-seven cellos. Fifty-nine first and second violins, and so on. Those who were passable musicians themselves became first and second chair and coaches who helped rehearse the passages and the particular sound of each vocal instrument. Morning, noon, and night the 214 members of the Darien Symphony Orchestra could be heard humming their parts as they worked, stood in the dinner line, washed dishes, or cleaned latrines. At night as the hammocks swung easily in the dark holds, the cacophony of unmatched notes competed with the sounds of the engine and the groaning hull. Nothing at all seemed to fit together. Each part was different. Each instrument had a different sound. Each musician hummed the part with a little different shading.

  “Oy!” remarked the rabbi who had been excluded from the orchestra because he was a rabbi, after all, and so he had to perform the circumcision. “If such a racket makes one moment of sense, then I shall declare the miracle of it before the congregation.”

  “You will see, Rabbi,” came the constant reply. “You will see.”

  ***

  On the fourth day, Maestro Shimon Feldstein began rehearsing sections of musicians together on the stern. All the string players came together jabbering and excited. Violinists without violins. Cellists without cellos. Bass fiddle players came with empty hands, yet with voices tuned and all the notes memorized completely.

  They sat as a proper orchestra would. “Cellos and bass fiddles there to my right. Yes, that’s it. Fredrik, you are first chair cellist. Yes, as my wife, Leah, was in Vienna. Violas and second violins here in front of me. First violins to the left—such a big string section. Are you ready?” Shimon’s hands were damp with perspiration as he lowered his head for a moment and found the pitch. And there it was. He raised his arm and all the other voices found their notes. And then he began. “Cellos—ah, yes, cellos! Mellow, beautiful. Now, violins—yes, yes. Can you hear?” The melody and counterpoint rose up to the heavens as Beethoven must have conceived it, as God must have sent it to him in the night. It was no longer the sound of 150 string players each singing alone, but an orchestra to rival those young goyim fellows at St. Stephan’s. “Build the music; think of our little prince Israel. Play boldly now—”

  By evening the horns and woodwinds had joined together. No one seemed to want to stop when the dinner bell rang. It was, indeed, beautiful!

  ***

  The signal from the German War Ministry was clear. General Beck was informed by Hitler that the army was an instrument of the state, and that Hitler was the head of the state, and therefore Beck and all the forces of the army owed him unquestioning obedience. On this discordant note, General Beck retreated to Munich and placed his signature on a letter of resignation.

  If the heads of the British government and the French government shuddered at this news, it was not visible to the outside world. This defiant signature by a German of honor and integrity quietly confirmed the worst fears of those men of power who had been enlightened by the message carried by Elisa.

  One day later, England and France announced that they would stand by their commitment to defend Czechoslovakia if she were attacked. To this gesture, Hitler responded by replacing Beck with General Halder and raising the level of his fury against the Czechs. He did not tremble, so sure was he of the hesitance of Chamberlain and Daladier to go to war.

  ***

  It was well past 1:00 a.m. by the time the last of the conspirators left the home of Canaris. There would be one final briefing for Thomas before he returned to Paris.

  His eyes animated, Canaris paced the length of the office, then back again like an expectant father in a waiting room. Indeed, the plot against Hitler conceived so many weeks ago was about to be given birth.

  “The divisions are in place, Thomas. Hitler’s own military plans against the Czechs have placed him where we need him to be. The date he has given for the acceptance of the ultimatum will be his last day in power.” Canaris held up a clenched fist in exultation. He jerked his head toward the map of Berlin and the surrounding countryside. With a snap of his fingers he indicated the area south of Berlin where the Führer had placed General Erich Hoepner’s Third Panzer Division.

  “The Third Division will be no more than a night’s march from here!” Thomas exclaimed, catching the fever of Canaris’s enthusiasm.

  “Exactly.” Canaris gazed happily at the map. “Hoepner and the Third Panzer will occupy Berlin while the rest of the army is occupied on the border of Czechoslovakia.”

  “Only one division. Is it enough?”

  “General von Witzleben has joined with us. With his division here as well—” he rubbed his hands together—“Count Helldorf has made meticulous arrangements to arrest Hitler, Göring, Goebbels, and Himmler here in Berlin. Witzleben’s Berlin garrison will storm the Chancellery at the signal. Tanks and artillery will be moved into position to hold the Ministry of Propaganda and the Chancellery SS units at bay until von Brockdorff and the Pottsdam garrison arrive. We take over the Ministry of Propaganda and immediately we hold the power of the nation in our hands. General Halder will begin his broadcasts then. He will read the document we have prepared which states the peril Hitler has put us in. The people have great respect for our military leaders.” He frowned. “I only wish that General Beck might have been with us at this moment. The document will have been presented to Hitler beforehand, and no man can accuse us of treason.

  Thomas smiled doubtfully. “As long as we pull it off we will not be traitors, you mean.”

  “Quite.” Canaris rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The military takeover will be in effect long enough to restore the Constitution. We will offer the German people a glimpse of the truth in the meantime. Publish the facts. Adolf Hitler is indeed the German god of creation, and now he begins his efforts to destroy what has been created. They will listen and will understand how he has deceived them. Ultimately, a war in Europe will destroy us. They must listen. . . .”

  Mentally, Thomas ticked off the impressive list of military leaders involved in the plot. Canaris was right. The people would acquiesce when the deed was accomplished and the fallacies of Hitler�
�s plans were brought to light. The troops of the SS units might dare to fight the coup, but their numbers were small in comparison to the regular army. And without Himmler, they would have no diabolical leadership to follow. Would this result in civil war? The question had been asked a thousand times over the last desperate weeks. There was a possibility, of course, but the bloodshed would be minimal compared to what devastation might lay ahead for Germany if Hitler carried out his threats.

  “And so—” Canaris patted Thomas on the back—“what is the mood in England?”

  “Trenches in Hyde Park, and gas masks are being issued.”

  “Good. They are expecting war. Expecting Prime Minister Chamberlain to hold by his commitments to the Czechs. These are matters which I will make certain Hitler hears. Such news will cause even his black heart to question his wisdom. If he wavers—if he pulls back—then we are saved a lot of trouble and bloodshed. Not to mention the fact that his public prestige will be damaged here in Germany. Yes, this is all good news.” Canaris sat down in the enormous leather desk chair that dwarfed him. “You must get word to your contact. Do not tell her everything that is happening here. No names. No details, of course. If the Gestapo should catch her, such information would be easily extracted from her. Then all would be lost.” He tapped his hand on the desk blotter. “Make no mention of a coup.”

  “What can I tell her that she can offer to the British leaders? What can we give them that will strengthen their resolve but not give us away?”

  Canaris chewed his lip as he swiveled to stare out the window at the hazy autumn sunlight. “Just this. The German military is utterly opposed to further aggression against the Czechs or any land. She must tell them that the words of the Führer are pure bluff.”

  “But they are not bluff!” Thomas protested, as certain as anyone that Hitler did indeed intend to invade the Czech territory.

  “His threats are not a bluff simply because the man is utterly mad! Given the condition of our armed forces, we would not last three months if the English and the French joined forces with the Czech divisions. Even alone, the Czechs could last for months against us. The bluff, Thomas, is in the fact that we are not invincible, as Hitler proclaims!” He slammed his fist on the desk. “Can’t you see? He has deluded the world as he has deluded the German people. We are not a master race, Thomas. We are men! As such we will bleed and die, and in the end after so much blood and so many millions of corpses, the bluff of Adolf Hitler will be discovered! Let us save the world a lot of misery and reveal the lie now, eh? So tell your contact that Hitler is bluffing. Tell her that the British must also bluff, or we shall all lose the game.” He frowned. “You have in your mind the figures of the document we have prepared to show the Führer?”

  “Yes.” Thomas ran through the information dealing with the unreadiness of the German Army to face a major conflict.

  “Good. Then give her that information as well. It is no secret. Let the British agent carry that to the British intelligence force and then to the Prime Minister. If that does not stiffen the backbone of Chamberlain, I cannot think what will.”

  ***

  In the musty-smelling file room of Berlin’s Gestapo headquarters, Georg Wand huddled over the report like a college student studying for an exam.

  He had a list of items that he had extracted easily from the British agent, Shelby Pence. She had been a willing and eager informer. Still, there was not much that she told him which he had not already known. Every fact about the Vienna existence of Elisa Linder had been gathered already by sources in Vienna. Her friendship with Leah Feldstein, the Zionist. Her relationship with Rudy Dorbransky. Her aid in hiding the Kronenberger twins, and the fact that they had obviously managed to escape the Reich. None of that seemed to be of any importance. Only one small item had surprised Wand. “Lindheim’s Department Store. Elisa Lindheim. Daughter of Theo Lindheim. Christian-Jew Theo Lindheim!”

  How was it, Georg wondered, that the connection had not been made before this? It was no wonder that Elisa Linder was actively assisting Jews! She herself was a Jewess—not a resident and citizen of Prague as she claimed, but rather a German citizen. This information was not only startling, but made all the time and effort he had spent in London suddenly worthwhile. There was nothing else of substance that Shelby Pence had offered. But this was everything he needed.

  This scrap of information led Wand to another file. At one time Elisa Lindheim had been in love with a young Wehrmacht officer. The Gestapo had investigated him. He was now a member of the Abwehr staff of Admiral Canaris and stationed in Paris. In Paris!

  Wand smiled at the thoroughness of the investigation of Thomas von Kleistmann. The young officer had been careful about covering his tracks if he was an anti-Nazi, but all the details of his love affair with this Jewess were still on record. Might they not still be lovers? The thought was intriguing. The past association with this woman at least made von Kleistmann worth another look.

  Closing the file cabinet, Georg glanced at his watch. Paris was only a few hours away.

  ***

  The last quiet morning in New Forest, Elisa lay beside Murphy as he slept. Once again she traced his body with her eyes as she had done their first morning together in Prague. Is this to be our last morning together? she wondered.

  She had felt foreboding in the predawn hours as the distant baying of hounds shattered the peaceful song of the woods. The hunt. Was it really so harmless and bloodless as Tedrick had told her? She had seen too much to believe that with her whole heart. Perhaps the British liked to imagine that there were no teeth in Hitler’s hounds, but Elisa knew differently. She knew, as Thomas did, that their duty placed them on the crest of a tidal wave headed for a stone wall.

  As the light filtered into the room, Elisa wanted to beg Murphy to take her with him to Evian. But when he awoke and they made love once more, she did not ask. She could not ask.

  Tedrick had kept his part of the bargain. She and Murphy had had these three days together alone. Now Elisa must keep her agreement as well.

  Strangely, Murphy did not ask her to go with him. It was as if the possibility did not enter his mind. Several times he had mentioned that he did not particularly like this guy Tedrick, but that the man seemed to know his job pretty well. “As long as you’re safe,” Murphy would say. And Elisa wondered silently what he would do if he knew the truth. The Bargain kept her from saying more. The Bargain meant British passports presented to Murphy by Tedrick when he came with the car.

  ***

  “Here you are. Just as I promised. Mr. Murphy, you will want to take them to Prague to the Linder family as soon as possible.”

  “Why so soon?” Murphy stopped. There was something grim and dark on the edge of Tedrick’s words.

  Tedrick cleared his throat nervously. “Looks like a war is a certainty. The mediation of the Czech problem by Lord Runciman has failed to solve the problem. Hitler has issued an ultimatum. Our Prime Minister Chamberlain has flown to Germany to meet with Hitler privately in Berchtesgaden.”

  “Chamberlain? To Berchtesgaden? This sounds a lot like the way Hitler took Austria, if you ask me. First the Führer issues an ultimatum; then he calls a conference to reply to it.”

  The news was astonishing to Elisa. General Beck must have resigned, she thought. She could not discuss any of it with Murphy, so she played her role—the concerned but uninformed musician.

  A lump in her throat, she stepped into the cottage with Murphy for the last time. She could not speak as he kissed her good-bye.

  The engine of the Rolls Royce hummed impatiently. Tedrick ducked his head through the low doorway. “We are keeping Elisa under wraps, Mr. Murphy. Would it be more convenient if she called you at your hotel in Evian to check in?”

  “Right. I’ll be at the Royale.” One quick kiss, a lingering look, and Murphy was out the door.

  ***

  An interesting man, this Tedrick. He had not been in the car five minutes with Murphy before he announ
ced that due to the extraordinary circumstances and political developments in Prague, he had taken the liberty of rearranging Murphy’s travel plans.

  “Steamers are such ghastly slow things, anyway. I simply got you a plane ticket to Prague. You can drop off the papers with Elisa’s family and three hours later catch another plane to Geneva. From there it’s a steamer on to Evian.”

  Maybe this gruff man was not such a bad guy, after all. Yes, indeed, he knew his business. That thought made Murphy frown as a question entered his mind.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said the Linders needed their passports as soon as possible, were you?”

  Tedrick leveled a steely gaze on Murphy. “No, Mr. Murphy. The events in Czechoslovakia are nothing at all to joke about. Not that I’m an authority, but—” he reached for the newspaper next to him and pointed to a photograph of a long line of people waiting to receive instruction in the use of gas masks— “In Prague, of course, Hitler would not hesitate to use gas on the population if this comes to war. He considers the Czech race to be only one notch above the Jews. And of course, you know what he thinks of Jews.”

  ***

  At Heathrow, Murphy sent wires first to Charles about Louis, and then to Hradcany Castle in Prague. The thought of an interview with the besieged Czech president was too good to pass up. There would be time, Murphy reasoned, after he stopped to give Theo and Anna the passports, for an hour with President Beneš. The little man still owed him a small favor.

  ***

  The airfield outside Prague was a beehive of activity. Modern fighter planes were lined up along the tarmac and covered with camouflage netting. Murphy stepped from the passenger plane and strained his eyes to see if Theo might not be among the officers and men who congregated together by a Quonset hut.