The Serpent's Egg

by JJ Toner

Anna leapt to her feet. “How long will all this take? It’s been two whole month since we gave our Ariernachweise to Madam Krauss.”

  “These things cannot be rushed, Anna. It could take several more weeks.”

  “Several weeks!”

  “Or months, even. You must be patient.”

  Chapter 12

  August 1938

  Twice each week without fail, Greta visited the Rosen family. She brought them food for their larder, newspapers and library books and reading material for young Sophie. It was clear that they never left their apartment. As a Jew, Sophie was excluded from attending school. Matilde did her best to provide her with an education. Greta helped by bringing reading trainers for Sophie and even sharing her knowledge of simple Mathematics, Geography and History with the child from time to time.

  At first Sophie’s papa, David, offered to pay for the food, but Greta refused; the family needed to hold on to whatever financial resources they had. Then he stopped offering and surrendered to an all-consuming depression. He stopped shaving. Soon he had a dark beard lined with gray. It suited him, but made him look even more miserable and more like the stereotypical Jew. Matilde did her best to remain cheerful, but her efforts were akin to those of Sisyphus and his boulder.

  Their only contact with the outside world was through listening to a DKE Kleinempfänger cheap radio that could pick up nothing but music, anodyne family entertainment programs, and Nazi propaganda. The library books were some help, but the newspapers were full of sabre rattling and anti-Semitic ranting. Even the family entertainment was tinged with slurs against the Jews, the Communists and other ‘undesirable’ groups. Without Greta’s underground leaflets they would have had no idea what was going on in the world outside.

  Sophie was not happy with her papa. He seemed to have lost the will to live. She couldn’t understand why they had to stay indoors all the time and why she wasn’t allowed to play with other children. Baby Ule’s visits became ever more important to her, and Greta let her do more and more with the baby.

  Little Ule adored Sophie. He smiled at her a lot. She crawled about with him on the floor. She tickled him to make him laugh. And her lifelike doll, Aschenputtel, was included in all their games together.

  Greta often stayed with the family for a couple of hours. On one occasion, when Ule and Sophie had fallen asleep together on the sofa, Greta asked Sophie’s parents if they had considered leaving Germany.

  David Rosen scowled at her. “We are Germans. Why should we have to leave?”

  Before Greta could respond, Matilde said, “Be realistic, husband. There is no future for us in this country, husband. The Nuremberg Laws…” Her voice drifted away.

  Greta said, “Those laws are just the beginning. Things will get a lot worse for families like yours.”

  David snorted. “You’re probably right, but we don’t want to leave. Where would we go?”

  “Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. France or Belgium, maybe, or England. Anywhere there are lots of Jews, but not Austria. The Nazis are strong there. ”

  Matilde said, “We could go to Poland. I have an uncle and a distant cousin living there.”

  David’s face contorted as if he’d tasted a lemon. “Not Poland. Hitler hates Poland and the Poles.”

  Chapter 13

  August 1938

  Greta skirted around a shiny Daimler-Benz car in the driveway and presented herself at the door of the Schulze-Boysen residence in Pankow. She rang the bell.

  It was the third week of August. All along the road the plane trees were in flower and the chestnuts were bristling with small green spiked balls.

  Pauletta the maid opened the door and showed Greta in to the study. She whispered, “Have you seen my sister and her family recently?”

  “Yes, I visited them two days ago. They are all well.”

  “Thank you, Frau Kuckhoff. I feel so guilty for not visiting them, but Herr Schulze-Boysen is not happy when I do.”

  Greta had heard this story before. She gave Pauletta a reassuring smile. “Matilde is well. She sends her best wishes.”

  Libertas appeared dressed in a black gown patterned with large pink and blue flowers. “Greta, my darling, so glad you could come.” They embraced. “I hear you’ve been looking after Matilde and her daughter. How are they?”

  “They are well, but their future looks uncertain.”

  “I told Pauletta not to let her sister marry a Jew. I warned Matilde. But no one ever listens to me.” She rolled her eyes.

  Libertas Schulze-Boysen was Greta’s best friend, but there were times when Greta could have strangled her. An acclaimed actress at the height of her career, she was the darling of the theatre-going public of Berlin. Petite of frame but larger than life, she wore flowing gowns and expansive millinery creations and waved her arms about a lot while she spoke in loud, almost masculine tones. Among her friends she numbered all the major actors and actresses of the day as well as every theatre director, producer and playwright in Germany. The up and coming young writer, Berthold Brecht was a particular favorite of hers, as was Greta’s husband, Adam and Adam’s friends, the German-American couple, Arvid and Mildred Harnack.

  The study was Libertas’s favorite room. Filled with period furniture, its walls were lined on three sides by bookcases crammed with books.

  “Hello, Greta.” Hidden behind the high back of a leather armchair, Greta discovered Mildred Harnack seated by the fireplace. Greta hadn’t seen Mildred for several months. The last definite news she’d had about her was that she was suffering with ‘her nerves’ and had spent some time in a sanatorium in Maryland. Her husband, Arvid, never gave anything away about her health.

  Of the three of them, Mildred was the prettiest, with well-defined features and an engaging smile. Greta was under no illusion about her own looks – her lank hair and sharp nose. Libertas’s favorite look was a juvenile pose that suited her miniature, doll-like figure. Greta knew she was the brightest of the three. She was certainly the most qualified, with degrees from German and American colleges. Mildred was an academic writer, very much minor league. Her most recent attempts to acquire grants from various American foundations had all been turned down. Libertas was from an aristocratic Prussian family and had no need of academic qualifications. Her mental powers were something of an unknown quantity.

  Mildred shook Greta’s hand warmly. They exchanged a few pleasantries, and Greta took a matching high-backed armchair on the opposite side of the fireplace. Libertas pulled up a Queen Anne chair and sat between them. Greta offered to change places, but Libertas dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand.

  “I’ve asked you both here to discuss the case of Anna Weber and Max-Christian Noack. I’ve explained to Mildred, Greta, why you passed their papers to me.

  Greta interrupted Libertas’s flow. “And have you been able to do anything for them?”

  “I’ll come to that later. I thought we should discuss the prospect of Max-Christian’s making a contribution to our husbands’ activities. The young man is employed with the RAD in some capacity or other. As I understand it, the questions are whether he could provide intelligence of any real value to the Resistance movement, and if so, which of our networks should attempt to recruit him.”

  Mildred added, “And would he be amenable to our advances.”

  Greta ground her teeth. Libertas was holding court as only Libertas could, and Mildred was playing her game. These were questions that would be considered and decided by the men in their lives. The secrecy with which Arvid ran his network was legendary. He would be unlikely to welcome any new source. The addition of Madam Krauss had been a major surprise. On the other hand, Libertas’s husband, Harro Schulze-Boysen, was totally open to any and all advances if they offered new intelligence sources. Harro held a high position in the Air Ministry. Of all the members of the Resistance, he was the best placed to gather valuable intelligence. But Arvid considered Harro’s behavior the height of indiscretion and kept as much distance as he cou
ld between the two networks.

  Greta turned her face to the fire to hide her contempt for Libertas’s pretentiousness. “I’m pretty sure Adam won’t be interested.”

  Mildred agreed. “Arvid won’t jeopardize his operation for a young man from the labor ministry. I think I can speak for Arvid.”

  “Well, I know Harro will jump at the prospect.” It seemed this was the outcome Libertas had been expecting. It left the field open for her to hand Max to Harro like a cat delivering a dead mouse.

  Greta returned to her earlier question. “Have you been able to get their marriage application sanctioned?”

  Libertas beamed. “But of course, darling. Would we be having this discussion otherwise? I spoke with my friend Emmy and she had a word in Hermann’s ear. In spite of their obvious difficulty, it has all been arranged. You can tell Max-Christian he will soon be able to re-apply to department B. When he does, his application will be sanctioned.”

  Once again Greta marveled at the ease with which Libertas could influence Hermann Göring, head of the Luftwaffe, by manipulating Emmy, his devoted wife.

  Greta asked for the return of the young couple’s papers.

  Libertas’s smile turned to cracked porcelain. “I don’t have them. Emmy forgot to return them. I will collect them from her the next time I visit.”

  Greta ground her teeth again. There was no point asking when that was likely to be. Libertas would be summoned if and when it suited Frau Göring, and the whole thing could easily fall apart before then.

  #

  They had tea, served on silverware by the portly maid in a tight outfit. When the maid had left the room Mildred suppressed a smile.

  Libertas looked down her long nose at her “I know. She has a constant battle with her weight. But Pauletta is a good girl. I wouldn’t replace her, not for the world.”

  Before they left, Libertas had one more card to play. “I’ve been thinking. Our two networks are doing more or less the same thing. We must be wasting precious resources by not working together. Harro has suggested that we might cooperate more closely. We might even consider merging.”

  Mildred looked at her, blankly. “Merging. The two networks?”

  “Yes, why not? We should be producing a single leaflet between us and we should surely combine our distribution networks. That way we could minimize the risks. One joint network would be so much more efficient. Don’t you think?”

  Mildred took a handkerchief from her handbag and blew her nose loudly. “I doubt that Arvid would consider such a move.”

  “But tell me you’ll put it to him.”

  “I’ll ask him…”

  “That’s all I ask. Put it to him. See how he reacts. And maybe we could set up a meeting.”

  Chapter 14

  September 1938

  At Libertas’s request, a member of the German Communist Party found them a disused warehouse close to the airport at Tempelhof. Harro had set up a small project in the Air Ministry to locate empty buildings to store spare parts for Luftwaffe aircraft. This gave him a perfect excuse to visit the warehouse openly. Arvid, on the other hand, took extreme measures to ensure that no one followed him to the venue. He arrived 30 minutes late.

  They shook hands.

  Arvid looked around, but could find nowhere to sit. The place was completely empty. The air temperature felt close to the boiling point of human blood, and there was a strong smell that he couldn’t identify.

  Harro opened proceedings. “My wife has established contact with a young man in the Reich Labor Service. His name is Max-Christian Noack. I think he may be a useful source of information. Unless you object, I propose to approach him and see if he is willing to join my network.”

  “Why should I object? I’m sure you will approach this man whatever I say.”

  Harro shook his head. “If you’re interested in the guy, I’m happy to let you have him. I’m quite sure we can trust him. He’s under an obligation to Libertas. She has arranged to have his marriage application approved by the Race and Ethnic Affairs people.”

  “I’m not interested. You have him. Was there something else you wanted to talk about?”

  “Libertas suggested we should talk about closer cooperation between our two networks.”

  Libertas, thought Arvid. I knew she was behind this! He looked at Harro sharply. “What do you have to offer?”

  “Well, it seems crazy to be running two print operations and two separate distribution networks. We could save ourselves a lot of work and time if we worked more closely together.”

  Arvid jammed his hands into his jacket pockets. It was as hot at the pit of hell and what was that stench? Rust? “I hope you’re not suggesting a merger.”

  “Not a merger, perhaps, but maybe we could start by combining our creative efforts. I’d be happy to reprint whatever you print…”

  “Giving editorial control to us?”

  Harro paused before answering. “To Adam Kuckhoff, yes. Printing the same material in two locations would reduce the chances of the Gestapo closing us down. Then maybe you could think about using some or all of our distribution network. I estimate that we send out about twice as many broadsheet leaflets as you do each month.”

  Arvid couldn’t argue with Harro’s arithmetic. “I’m happy with our delivery methods, but I would like to send out more product, certainly. What else did you have in mind?”

  Harro crossed his arms high on his chest. “I thought you were the one with the proposal.”

  Arvid snorted. “You’ve got me here under false pretenses. Is this some sort of trap?”

  Harro smiled. “No one’s trying to trap you. I think we can thank our scheming wives for getting us together.”

  Arvid exploded. “Your scheming wife, not mine. Mildred said that Libertas made her promise to get me to come to this meeting. Libertas gave her the idea that you had a proposition to discuss.”

  Harro held out a hand toward Arvid. “Take it easy, man. Libertas gave me the same story. She said you had a proposal.”

  Arvid took a step toward the door. “This whole meeting has been a waste of time.”

  “Perhaps not. I’m sure our wives acted in good faith. There is a lot of good sense in cooperation between our networks, don’t you agree?”

  “No, I don’t. Your operation is too loose, too indiscreet. In my opinion it’ll be only a matter of time before the whole thing crumbles and we all end up in the hands of the Gestapo.”

  Harro put a hand on Arvid’s arm. “Before you go, Arvid, let’s agree on one thing. If I can get this RAD man to join us, I’d be willing to share his intelligence. We can use Greta as go between. She is familiar with both networks and the baby gives her excellent cover.”

  “I’m happy dealing through Greta, but you’d have to promise to keep the new man at arm’s length from everyone else in my network.”

  “Agreed.”

  “What is that smell? Is it rust?”

  “I think it’s dried blood. The warehouse was used as a ‘wild camp’ in the early days of the Brownshirts.”

  Chapter 15

  September 1938

  It was time for Max’s third visit of the year to see his mother. He took the Autobus to Lutherstadt Wittenberg.

  He might have expected questions about his plans to marry, but his mother’s mind didn’t work like that.

  She was bursting to tell him a story about a neighbor, one Frau Magda Dallerbruch whose son, Karl, had followed his father into the Kriegsmarine. Karl had drowned in a training accident. Max had vague memories of a young boy of that name. His mother seemed unaffected by the tragedy, although she had attended the boy’s funeral. Max wondered if he detected a slight trace of Schadenfreude, but dismissed the notion as unlikely. His mother lacked the natural empathy needed to feel another’s pain and the self-knowledge necessary to take pleasure from it.

  After that they settled into a stuttering conversation full of non sequiturs, tangents and deviations. Max kept track, making sure th
ey covered everything on his list, and picking up her fragments of important news.

  He returned to Berlin drained of emotion.

  #

  Madam Krauss had a visit from a Wehrmacht officer waiting to be shipped out to Czechoslovakia. Leaving a young family behind and facing the very real prospect of military action, he needed to know that he would survive. While providing the necessary reassurance, Madam Krauss gently extracted details of the date and strength of the planned military incursion. Breathlessly, she passed the information to Greta, and Greta passed it to Arvid.

  Encrypting the information took an hour of concentrated work. The result was 244 characters arranged in groups of four on a single page. These he transcribed onto a piece of rice paper no bigger than a stamp, using a fine pen and a magnifying glass. Finally, the rice paper carrying the coded message was rolled into a narrow tube and inserted into a cigarette. The cigarette was placed in a pack with about 12 others, and the pack was carried by a courier for transfer to his contact at the Soviet Embassy, a cultural attaché called Alexander Korotkov.

  #

  Arvid also arranged to meet his contact at the American Embassy. Donald Heath, First Secretary at the embassy, carried a brief for the nascent US Intelligence service. When they met at an Embassy reception on New Year’s Eve, Arvid had found a willing outlet for his intelligence. Born in Germany, Arvid had studied in the United States. His wife, Mildred, was a US citizen. As a committed Marxist his first loyalty was to the Soviets, but he was happy to share any intelligence he could gather with the Americans – or anyone else for that matter – as long as it helped to hasten the downfall of Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich.

  Both men were thin, weedy individuals, Heath more so than Arvid. Both had receding hairlines, Heath’s the more advanced of the two. Heath was not one to tolerate stupidity, his thin lips and the line of his mouth creating an expression of distrust, if not outright hostility. They preferred to meet in the open, as both men were heavy pipe smokers. On this occasion they met in Heath’s office. The room was soon full of aromatic smoke.