The Image Seeker

by Amanda Hughes

  “Thank you for coming,” she murmured. “I am Greta Bergstrasser, chief medical officer. Please follow me.”

  She raised the lantern, flooding the room. It was the massive kitchen of the institution. Winding their way around long tables, past sinks and cupboards, they stopped at a dumbwaiter in the pantry where she pressed the call button.

  “I have been treating Miss Meyer for many years,” she whispered. “So, when she came to Saxonburg this time, I knew it was not a real psychotic episode. She confided in me that she had gone into hiding because of the research Zweig was forcing on her.”

  “What was the research exactly?” Max asked. “Frank would never discuss it with me.”

  “Chemical formulas for sterilization.”

  “As I suspected,” Max replied, “formulas for the atrocities occurring here.”

  “And for mass extermination.”

  “Dear God,” Billie gasped, and a chill passed through her. “No wonder she went into hiding.”

  Dr. Bergstrasser nodded. “Shortly after that, Zweig started using patients here as lab rats. They purchase the patients from the superintendent.”

  “You can’t be serious. He sells them?” Billie asked.

  “More or less. He sells the use of their bodies. It’s being done in the institutions all over Germany.” She pushed the dumbwaiter button again impatiently and continued, “They are strong-arming their way in here, and the superintendent is in full support.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I’m trying to discharge patients a quickly as possible, but the National Socialists are rounding them up faster than I can release them.”

  “So how are we getting Elise out?” Max asked.

  “She feigned contractions earlier this evening. When I was called in to examine her, I told the nursing staff she was in labor and that I wanted her transferred immediately to the infirmary. Instead, Silke, the attendant on duty, brought her to the fourth floor dumbwaiter. She’s upstairs now getting ready to send her down.”

  Billie looked at the tiny elevator and wondered how they would ever fit a pregnant woman inside.

  “Is Silke the young woman escaping to Sweden?” Max asked.

  “Yes.”

  Suddenly, a red light went on, and the doctor opened the dumbwaiter. Jammed inside was a very pregnant woman rolled up like a fetus. Every corner of the tiny enclosure was taken up with head, belly, legs, and feet.

  Max jumped forward to help ease her out. Elise unfolded and staggered, gasping for air. Billie recognized her from her picture. Except for the slightly swollen belly, it was a good likeness. She did resemble Amelia Earhart, with brown hair that was tousled and a thin, athletic build. She was tall and dignified. Her smile was genuine and warm. “Hello Max,” she said softly.

  He took her hand. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, Elise.” He introduced her to Billie.

  “My thanks to you both,” she said.

  After sending the dumbwaiter back up for Silke, Dr. Bergstrasser asked, “Are you sure you can do this, Elise?”

  “I can wait no longer.” She rubbed her belly.

  “Your traveling papers did not come through,” Max said. “So, we must disguise you and Silke as men.”

  Elise’s eyes grew wide.

  “It’s all right. We will make you into an overweight man,” Billie explained.

  “It may be a blessing your baby is not very large, Elise,” Dr. Bergstrasser added.

  The red light went on again, flooding the pantry in a blood-like hue. The dumbwaiter was back. A girl no more than sixteen years of age was inside. When Max helped her out, Billie thought she looked like a spindly baby bird hatching from an egg. She was thin and frail-looking, with a long neck and a large head. She even had hair like the down of a hatchling: short, soft, and white.

  “This is Silke,” Dr. Bergstrasser murmured, “a very brave girl indeed.”

  Silke smiled, revealing a mouth full of crooked teeth.

  Dr. Bergstrasser picked up the lantern and led them back to the door. “God’s speed to you all,” she said and pulled Elise and Silke into her arms. There were tears in her eyes.

  Max picked up their suitcases, and they crossed the lawn down to the station in silence. The platform was still deserted, a single light glowing overhead. The only sound was the chirping of crickets. They waited only moments for the train, and the conductor took their tickets, no questions asked. They chose a car with few people, and when they sat down, Max produced newspapers and magazines for them. Except for occasional small talk, they rode in silence. Max smoked one cigarette after another. Several times, Billie saw Elise rub her belly.

  By the time they arrived back in Berlin, a storm had moved in, and it had grown windy. Lightning flashed overhead. The lobby of the hotel was empty, and they passed through it quickly, the night clerk never looking up. The lounge was quiet too, only a handful of people drinking and smoking.

  When they got to the room, Max exclaimed, “Thank God!”

  Elise slumped down in a chair as Silke ran to the bathroom.

  “Who’s hungry?” Billie asked grabbing a bag of food she had purchased earlier.

  “Me,” Elise said, taking a roll. “That’s all I think about is food.”

  “Max?” Billie said, holding out a sandwich.

  “No, I’d rather smoke.”

  “Max,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Okay, okay.” He took one.

  When Silke came back, she sat down shyly in the corner.

  “Silke,” Max exclaimed. “Eat! You have a long journey ahead of you.” He handed her a corned beef on rye. “Is someone escorting you?”

  She took a bite and nodded. “I meet them at the depot at 6 am after you leave.”

  “Are they with the same organization?”

  “Yes. The deal was, if I help Miss Meyer, they help me get to Sweden.”

  “Do you have family there?”

  “No.”

  Max drew his brows together. “Then why Sweden?”

  The girl said quietly. “Anywhere is better than here. I am Jewish.”

  Max nodded. “I certainly understand.”

  “You are indeed a brave girl,” Billie said.

  “And a smart one to get out while you can,” Elise added.

  “Now,” Max said, changing the subject, as thunder rattled the windows. “We have only a few hours until we catch the train for Warnemünde. We will give you haircuts and then dress you in men’s clothes. You will be traveling as American journalists. If anyone asks about your German accents, tell them you immigrated to the United States.” He looked at Silke. “Even if you are going to Sweden, this story works. Our journalists travel all over the world. Please memorize your new names and tell the border patrol you work for Hearst Press. Try to lower the tone of your voices without sounding too affected.”

  Billie sat down, opened the traveling papers, and looked at the birthdates. One reporter was twenty-one. “Robert Allen Porter,” she said, handing the document to Silke.

  The other reporter was thirty years of age. “Charles Arthur Schmidt,” she said, giving it to Elise.

  Next, Billie grabbed scissors. “Silke, I’ll cut your hair first. Sit here at the vanity,” she instructed. After draping the girl’s shoulders with a towel, she said, “I’m no beautician, but I’ll do my best. At least it is already short.”

  Max was busy pulling out shoes. “Elise, put some socks on and try these,” he stated, handing her a pair of oxfords. After several tries, they found brogues she could walk in.

  When Billie finished cutting Silke’s hair, the girl looked in the mirror and said, “You did a nice job, Miss Bassett.”

  Billie wasn’t so sure. Now more than ever, she thought Silke looked like a hatchling. “I’m glad you don’t hate it. I used to cut my brother’s hair. Some of it came back to me.”

  Now it was Elise’s turn. Since her hair was short too, Billie was done in no time. Shaking the towel over the wa
stebasket, Billie stated, “Max, it’s time for you to go down to the lounge and have a drink. We need to try on clothes.”

  “On my way,” he said, grabbing his cigarettes and suit coat.

  Billie found it easy to dress Silke. She already had the figure of a teenage boy, but Elise was a challenge. She dressed her in one set of clothes and then another. Billie hoped the last suit would work. It was a voluminous gray tweed, but after putting it on, the pregnancy was still apparent.

  Billie put her fist to her lips. “We must make you look fat, not pregnant.”

  “Maybe have my bust line match my belly,” Elise said, looking in the mirror.

  Billie handed her socks that she stuffed in her brassiere.

  “Better,” Billie said. “But not quite. Let’s do this.” She stuffed hand towels in the sides of her trousers to give the illusion of a wide girth, not just an extended belly.

  “Here,” Silke said, handing Elise a suit coat.

  The disguise was complete. With a scarf to cover her thin neck and a hat, Elise looked like most of the out-of-shape, alcoholic reporters Billie knew.

  After taking their pictures, Billie went into the bathroom to develop the photos while they rested. Elise’s ankles were swollen, so Billie encouraged her to stretch out on the bed.

  When Max returned, Billie had just changed into her own traveling attire, a cream-colored suit with a navy fedora cocked to the side. It was comfortable and understated. She did not want to draw any attention.

  When she passed him, he pulled her close. “Even at a time like this, you look good to me. We haven’t had enough time together,” he murmured in her ear.

  She smiled. “Wait until we get safely out to sea. We’ll make up for that.”

  Grabbing their bags, they headed down to the train station. Soldiers were everywhere, and Billie found it unnerving. Off to bully someone somewhere, she thought. She couldn’t imagine what the National Socialists would do to the Indian community in America. It made her shudder to think of it.

  She held her breath as they passed by two men who looked like Gestapo. They were dressed in black trench coats, and one of them nodded a greeting to her.

  She thought they had gotten past when suddenly one snapped, “Papers please.”

  They turned around, and the men sauntered up. “Americans?”

  “Yes,” Max replied, holding out his traveling papers.

  The taller of the two scowled and grabbed his documents. The other agent was more polite, smiling and requesting papers from Billie and then Elise.

  “Reporters all of you?” the taller one asked.

  They nodded.

  “Still here from the Olympics?”

  “Yes,” Billie said quickly, “and it was magnificent.”

  The reporter who had looked at Billie’s papers stated, “Jesse Owens. You know him?”

  “No.” She chuckled.

  “Pity,” he replied and turned to look at Silke’s papers. Satisfied, he said, “Safe journey to all.”

  “Thank you,” Max said, and they continued on through the station. When they rounded a corner, Elise collapsed onto a bench, panting. “I must sit for a moment,” she gasped.

  Billie thought she looked pale, and in spite of her belly, she was skin and bones. She guessed the food was substandard at the institution. She dropped down next to her, almost taking her hand but then remembered they were supposed to be a group of reporters traveling together on assignment. It wouldn’t look right. Billie sat quietly next to her instead.

  Max smoked, and Silke watched the crowds.

  Billie wondered what Elise’s breaks with reality were like. She knew little about mental illness, and she wondered if she raved madly like the patient they had heard earlier at the institution, or if she just quietly withdrew. Either way, she hoped she wouldn’t find out.

  “They’ve just announced the final boarding for Warnemünde,” Max said, squashing his cigarette in the sand of an ashtray. “Can you walk again, Charlie?” he asked Elise.

  She nodded and stood up. Max picked up her bag, and they started for the train shed. At the doors, Silke stopped. “I will leave you here,” she murmured.

  Max nodded and shook hands with the girl. “I can’t thank you enough. You are truly a courageous person.”

  Silke looked down modestly.

  “I agree with every word Max said,” Billie added, shaking her hand as well. “Good luck on your assignment in Sweden.”

  “Thank you, Miss Bassett,” she replied and ran her hand through her hair. “I think I’ll keep this style.”

  Billie laughed. “You may want to rethink that.”

  “Goodbye,” Elise said, stepping up. “I will miss you. A better and more trustworthy soul never lived.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Come,” Max said, putting his hand on Elise’s shoulder. “We’ve not much time.”

  Silke smiled sadly and disappeared into the crowd.

  Steam was rising off the tracks as they walked through the train shed. Passengers rushed back and forth as porters pushed racks piled high with luggage. It was loud and smelled of exhaust. They walked for what seemed like an eternity until, at last, they asked a conductor for the location of their car. “On the end,” he said, handing their tickets back to them.

  “Wouldn’t you know it,” Max said.

  At last, they reached the car, climbed the steps, and found their compartment. The train was much quieter than when Billie had ridden it weeks earlier. When they sat down, she reflected on how tense Berlin had become now that the Olympics were over. It was obvious the whole city had put on a façade of joyful hospitality for the Games. But now, life was back to normal, and the jubilant yellows and oranges of celebration had faded to a dull gray.

  Billie heard a whistle, and the train jerked into motion. After the porter visited with the food and beverage cart, Elise ate heartily and fell asleep.

  “I wonder if Silke met her contact,” Max said as he paged idly through a magazine.

  “I hope she is on her way to Sweden as we speak,” Billie replied. She shifted in her seat. She was weary and achy and couldn’t get comfortable. Her eyes burned, and she was in need of sleep, but she couldn’t relax.

  She could tell Max was exhausted as well. He was trying to read but kept getting distracted looking out the window. She worried about him. Being Jewish in this country was dangerous enough but smuggling out a renowned scientist and killing a Nazi? Unthinkable. She knew that, by now, they were probably searching everywhere for them, and she tried not to think of what would happen if they were apprehended.

  She picked up her book, trying to get it off her mind.

  Chapter 30

  “Max,” Billie whispered. “Look at that.” She pointed out the window. The train was pulling into Warnemünde, and although it was still dark, floodlights were everywhere.

  “My God,” he murmured. “It looks like a prison camp.”

  On either side of the tracks were tall metal fences topped with barbed wire. Soldiers in towers held machine guns or manipulated searchlights. Nazis walked up and down the railroad platform, leading German Shepherds.

  “Warnemünde!” the conductor announced.

  Billie’s heart started to pound. “I don’t remember any of this the first time I came through,” she gasped.

  “Of course not,” Max replied quietly. “It was the Olympics.”

  They woke Elise and started to gather their bags.

  “How are you feeling?” Billie asked.

  “Better,” Elise replied with a weak smile.

  “Good,” Max said, helping her stand. “We’re about to board the ship.”

  Steam hissed as they stepped out onto the platform, and a train horn blared.

  The line to have documents checked was long, winding out of the terminal onto the platform. A soldier ordered them to the back of the queue. Holding their bags, they walked to the end of the line.

  Gradually, they inched their way inside the terminal. I
t was a large, busy depot serving both ship and train transport. Billie was as taut as a bowstring waiting to have her papers inspected, but Max seemed utterly cool and relaxed. He was smoking, laughing, and making small talk with the other passengers. She wondered if he was revisiting his years as a rumrunner once more, feigning a cavalier exterior.

  She looked at Elise, who was staring straight ahead, expressionless, her brown hair still tousled from sleep, her men’s suit wrinkled. Billie wondered what was going through her mind. She didn’t even know this woman, yet here they stood side-by-side, facing a formidable enemy together.

  Suddenly, three soldiers and a Gestapo officer strode past them and approached the port agent. The man stepped back, letting them take over. Max shot a look at Billie and then went back to visiting with a young German couple.

  Billie was the first to present her papers. The Gestapo officer looked down at her documents, up into her face, and then down again at her papers. Billie held her breath, trying to appear relaxed. At last, he nodded and handed them back to her.

  Elise was next, and Billie said a silent prayer all would go well. Had the journalists reported their traveling papers missing, or were they still sleeping off the free alcohol provided by The Taverne? The officer frowned. Billie wondered if the photograph looked authentic. When he ran his eyes over Elise, she thought she would faint. Could he tell it was a disguise?

  Just as he was about to hand the documents back, Elise staggered. Max caught her arm and steadied her. Billie saw the officer look down. He was staring at Elise’s trousers; her water had broken.

  “Ach du lieber Gott!” Elise exclaimed. She was flustered and started plucking at the soaked material.

  Quick as lightning, Max said, “I must apologize for my colleague. The line was long, and when he drinks, he loses his─” Max chuckled obsequiously and shrugged. “Typical journalist, a drinker.”

  The soldiers standing nearby wrinkled their noses.

  “No,” the Gestapo officer argued. “Typical American.” Mumbling in disgust, he yanked Max’s papers from his hand, examined them, and gave them back immediately. “Go!” he barked.

  Taking Elise’s arm, Billie guided her out through the large double doors and up the steps to the ship, where they presented their tickets and stepped onboard. Max was right behind them with the luggage. After checking their bags, they each took an elbow and whisked Elise to her cabin. She grimaced as they eased her down on the bed.