York was impressed. She was a remarkable woman. A war widow with an elderly mother, she was risking her life to hide eight people. And even though she might have help from others, it was still an unbelievable effort. What he found absolutely amazing, was that she did it while performing for the Berlin String Quartet, practicing her violin several hours each day.
CHAPTER 37
Once Erika Jaeger had gone, York walked towards the drop to see what Gerhard Faber might have left him. An elderly couple passed, arm in arm, still in love after many years together. York watched them walk down the lane, suddenly feeling an emptiness in his heart. He wondered if they realized how fortunate they were to have found each other. After watching them a moment more, he realized that they probably did.
He carefully surveyed the landscape and, when sure no one was watching, he moved to the tomb where the drop was, leaned against the fence, and removed the cap from the corner post. He expected to find the rest of the artillery shell drawings, and promise of delivery for rocket diagrams, as originally agreed.
Instead he found another note from Faber and two pages of blueprints, not four as anticipated. He studied the cemetery, peering through bushes and shrubs, past tombs and mausoleums, and made sure no one was watching. Then he translated the note.
PRICE JUST DOUBLED. TWO OF FOUR DRAWINGS DELIVERED. LEAVE MONEY FOR MORE.
York frowned. He was tiring of Gerhard Faber. But he wanted the plans for the rocket even more than the artillery shell. He weighed whether the weapons were as valuable as information he had gotten from Erika or Amanda, or even the gossip obtained from Albert Kaiser. He knew that it was.
He sighed, faced with a dilemma. He had given Jaeger more money than planned because he felt sorry for her. Now he had just enough to meet Faber’s original demand, which would only buy two more blueprints.
“Let’s see how badly he needs money,” York uttered aloud. He put the bills in the cavity formed by the hollow finial cap with a note.
REST OF MONEY AT OTHER DROP. LEAVE DRAWINGS THERE, WITH SAME FOR ROCKET.
He folded the drawings and put them in his pocket, made sure the cap was secure, and walked out of the cemetery.
York took a taxi to Max’s boarding house, finding the Berlin traffic heavier than normal. He went to a rear entrance when he arrived, climbed the stairs, and tapped lightly on the door. After a few minutes, he tapped again. The door opened a crack, and Max peered out.
As soon as he saw York, he opened the door, glanced down the hallway in both directions, and led him inside. On a small table against the wall sat a few slices of pumpernickel bread, a block of sharp cheese and a knife. A bottle of red wine stood beside a half-filled glass. Max sat down and motioned for York to join him.
“Are you all right?” Max asked, surprised by the impromptu meeting.
“Yes, I’m sorry for the intrusion. But I had to talk to you right away.”
“Is anything wrong?”
York shook his head. “No, but I have a lot to discuss. And it’s important. I’ll show you.”
He took the drawings of the artillery shell from his pocket, showing Max the details, what else was expected, and about the potential rocket design. Then he described how Faber had acted.
Max frowned. “What disturbs me most is that he’s probably selling the same thing to the Russians. And I bet he’s making a nice living doing it.”
“I think he needs to be taught a lesson,” York said firmly.
Max shrugged. “Have some fun with him. I could care less.”
“I think I will.”
York gazed out the window, watching the traffic pass, a streetcar and bus, a few Volkswagons, bicycles moving along the curb. Pedestrians walked on the pavement past the trees that bordered the road, flowers in beds beside the curb. All were framed by Nazi flags hanging from street lamps and balconies.
“I also have valuable information for you,” he said quietly.
Max had been slicing a piece of cheese from the block. He put down the knife and looked at York with interest. “What is it?”
York explained Hitler’s decision to halt the offensive at Kursk so he could redeploy troops in Italy, and his belief that the Italian campaign was a diversion for the real assault, which would be in the Balkans. He gave Amanda’s version and source, and then Jaeger’s confirmation.
Max listened intently, his eyes trained on York. He rubbed his chin, thoughtful, then looked away. He motioned to York, offering bread, cheese, and wine, but still not speaking.
York broke the impasse. “Jaeger asked again if we can help get her friends out of Germany.”
Max took another sip of wine. “I told you we could. Especially if she continues to cooperate.”
“There’s just one wrinkle, I’m afraid,” York said.
“What is it?”
“She’s hiding eight people.”
Max glanced at him, eyebrows arched, eyes wide. “A resourceful woman,” he said. “I think we’ve been underestimating her. She must have them hidden around the city, maybe with friends or relatives.”
“What should I tell her?”
“Keep promising. We’ll get them out eventually. But up the ante a bit. Demand more information.”
“Of course,” York said, his heart sinking. He thought of Erika Jaeger’s face, so hopeful, so trusting. She needed his help desperately. And she believed him when he said he could provide it.
Max wrapped the bread and cheese, put the cork back in the wine, and rose from his chair. “I have to find my radio operator and get a message to London,” he said. “Do you have anything else?”
York explained the efforts of Manfred Richter, and possibly Martin Bormann, to develop centers and escape routes around the world for Nazis fleeing Europe, ultimately to form the Fourth Reich.
Max was stunned. “That means some in the Nazi party have accepted defeat. They’re either planning their escape from Europe, bringing the war to new continents, or there is a growing opposition to Hitler and he’ll be overthrown by a group already postured for world domination. Either way, they could be planning a war on a far grander scale.”
“Which is unfathomable,” York said gravely.
“I don’t want to pass that along just yet,” Max said. “We need to confirm it. But halting the offensive in Russia has to be relayed immediately. Good work, old boy.”
York stood and started for the door.
“Did you get any information on Kaiser and Klein?”
York nodded. “A little. I haven’t asked Amanda yet, but Jaeger confirmed what we already knew.” He put his hand on the doorknob and paused, remembering. “Except for one thing,” he added.
Max, in a hurry to get to his radio operator, was right behind him. “What is it?”
“Kaiser and Klein served in the last war together.”
CHAPTER 38
Workers toiled in the Braun family garden, tediously correcting years of neglect. They removed dead and dying foliage, trimmed and shaped overgrown shrubs, and pruned trees whose limbs stretched in unintended directions. Flower beds were weeded and renewed with scarlet roses accented by golden daisies, white chrysanthemums, and lavender hyacinths. Masons repaired a flagstone walkway, replacing the mortar between the joints, and fixed the flower bed retaining walls which had crumbled in several places. After a few days of intense activity, the gardens were starting to look like they once did, rivaling those of the neighbors.
“How does this dress look?” Astrid asked her mother. It was the third change of clothes she had modeled.
Mrs. Braun turned from the twelve-pane window that overlooked the garden. She cast a final glance at the mason, ensuring his work was performed to her satisfaction, and then studied her daughter’s apparel, admiring how the dress hugged her frame. Gerhard Faber was coming for dinner that evening, and she wanted to keep the subtle seduction alive.
“I suppose it’s all right,” Mrs. Braun said, although her face showed she didn’t think so. “But I like the l
ight gray dress better, the one that’s low cut. You have such a nice shape, Astrid. Why hide it?”
Astrid blushed. “It shows too much cleavage.”
Mrs. Braun could imagine Gerhard Faber stealing peeks down her daughter’s dress throughout dinner, imagining the prize obtained if he was patient. She smiled. Her goal was to never let him get there.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’re entertaining a very interested suitor in the comfort of your own home. You should be comfortable. Go change. Put on the gray dress.”
Astrid shrugged and headed for the steps. She never questioned her mother’s judgment. Even though they both knew exactly what Gerhard Faber’s motives were.
For the past week, Mrs. Braun had been checking on her daughter’s latest love interest. She still had some influence in the government, although limited and primarily with minor officials. Given that, she really couldn’t determine much. He did play viola for the Berlin String Quartet, which he claimed was his true passion. That had been easy to verify. But she couldn’t ascertain if he was the wealthy industrialist and Nazi Party insider he claimed to be. And she couldn’t find his residence, which he said was on Schwanenwerder Island in Wannsee Lake. He even said Goebbels lived only a few houses away. But it really didn’t matter who or what Faber was. She didn’t think he would be a permanent fixture in Astrid’s life.
*
Gerhard Faber cursed loudly and slammed the cap on the corner post of the iron fence. Remembering he was in a cemetery, he glanced around furtively to ensure no one had seen him. He stood there a moment with head bowed, appearing to pay his respects, before moving to a bench just across the lane.
The money left was much less than he expected, even after he had made his demands, and now he had to go to the Berlin Theater to get the rest. He sat there fuming, wondering what to do next. He waited a few minutes more, trying to calm himself, before deciding on a course of action.
He scribbled a note on a piece of paper and removed the last artillery shell drawing and one page of the rocket blueprint from his pocket, leaving the rest undisturbed. He went to the iron fence, looked in all directions for anything suspicious, and took the finial from the corner post.
He tucked the stern note he had written in the fencepost, along with the drawings. He would make his latest demand clear, no longer tolerating insolent behavior. And he meant it. There were other customers, Russians and Americans, who were more than willing to pay handsomely for what he had to offer.
On the way to the Braun’s house he stopped at the Berlin Theater. He made his way to the parking lot, wiggled behind the tree and removed the capstone, and found some more money inside. But it was still not as much as he expected. He left no drawings, because he had no intention of coming back to Berlin Theater. And that’s what the note in the cemetery had said.
The Brauns were expecting him for dinner. The workmen in the garden would be waiting for him. He had planned on using the money from the blueprints to pay them, funds he now didn’t have. He would have to make up the difference from his rent money. But then he would put his family at financial risk. He thought of his wife and children and, for a moment, he wondered why he endangered them by pretending to be someone he wasn’t, just to win the favors of Astrid Braun. There had to be a solution.
He changed tactics and returned to the garden wall, inserting the three other rocket drawings he had with him, the balance of the first delivery and a quarter of the total. He removed his original note, carefully considered what to say, and jotted down a message with a softer tone.
FIRST INSTALLMENT DELIVERED. PAY ACCORDINGLY OR NO MORE INFORMATION. THERE’S MUCH MORE AVAILABLE. CHECK CEMETERY FOR OTHER DRAWINGS AND ALL FUTURE COMMUNICATIONS.
When he returned to the cemetery on Sunday, he should have enough money to pay the rent and get his family’s finances on track. He mentally noted how many concerts the Berlin String Quartet had in the upcoming month, and then added his salary from the Armaments Department. He might make it, if they paid him appropriately for the drawings.
The information wasn’t as valuable as he originally thought. Only the plans for the rocket casing had crossed his desk. The internals and their intricate guidance systems were somewhere else, with other draftsmen. He could try to find them, but that was too risky. He had to find something else to offer, something the Allies had never seen before. Something that proved so valuable he would be rewarded handsomely. And he had to control Mrs. Braun. His wallet couldn’t keep up with her.
*
“Mr. Faber, I’m so delighted you’ve come for dinner again,” Mrs. Braun said as she opened the door. “The gardens look lovely, the best they have in years.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” he said as he entered. “I talked to the workmen on my way in. They are just finishing up.”
“They did a marvelous job,” Mrs. Braun said as she led him into the parlor. “Although they did mention some of the stone walkway on the other side of the house needs to be replaced. I suppose even stone breaks over time. The one workman said he could fix it all in a few days, and repair the steps at the rear entrance at the same time. I haven’t showed you that yet, but if I were you, I would get him to secure the railing, too. It’s loose right at the base. I think we would all feel terrible if someone grabbed that for support and fell and got hurt.”
“Yes, of course,” Faber said, the smile on his face hiding the queasiness in his stomach. “I know exactly what you mean.”
Astrid made a dramatic entrance, coming down the sweeping staircase, her hair short and tight to her head, the gray dress clinging to her body seductively. The low cut at the bosom attracted Faber’s immediate attention.
“Astrid, you look beautiful,” he said, his eyes wide with wonder.
She smiled and hugged him, just tightly enough that her breasts pushed against his chest. She kissed him on the lips, briefly, innocently letting her lips part slightly to offer a sensual moistness.
“It looks like the workmen are getting ready to leave,” Mrs. Braun said. “Did you want to speak to them, Gerhard?”
He was mesmerized by Astrid, but managed to break away. “Yes, yes of course,” he stammered. “Excuse me, Astrid. I’ll be right back.”
CHAPTER 39
Amanda entered York’s hotel room late Friday morning, sat down at the table beside the window, and set another box of photographs on the table. Her face was drawn, the twinkle absent from her eye, the smile missing from her face.
York suspected what was wrong. “Have you heard from Kurt?”
“Yes, I have,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “He telephoned the other night. It’s the first I’ve heard from him since he left.”
“How’s he doing?”
She shrugged. “He seems to be enjoying himself. He wasn’t interested in any alternate plans I might have for him.”
York studied her face, feeling the pain in her voice. His eyes were searching, compassionate and sincere. He wanted to help. But he didn’t know how.
She looked at him, smiling weakly. It seemed she appreciated his unspoken concern.
He knew she was lonely, but for the first time he realized just how much. Years of neglect from her husband had taken its toll, and she had transferred her own hopes and dreams to her stepson. But he had dismissed them, never making them a part of him, as they were a part of her. And now her husband had abandoned her, finding other women to occupy his time. There was nothing for her in Berlin. She knew it, and so did York.
He watched her closely as she stared out the window, watching nothing in particular. She deserved more. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew it wasn’t what she had now.
He decided to shift her attention from Kurt. “Can I ask you a few questions about the other members of the quartet?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“Erika Jaeger.”
“She’s a close friend, although I don’t see her much anymore except at concerts.”
“W
hy is that? Did something happen?”
Amanda shook her head. “No, not at all. She just works so much. She has a government job at the War Ministry, but she also accepts any other work she can find. She cleans offices, works as a waitress, tutors children, whatever it takes to earn money.”
“I wonder why,” he prodded.
“Her mother is in poor health. Sometimes I spend a few hours with her, just so she has a companion while Erika is working. She’s a nice lady. I like her.”
York was quiet, thinking of the most manipulative way to ask the next question. “She must be very ill if her care is that expensive.”
“I suppose,” Amanda said, dismissing his statement. “I never thought about it. But Erika is a very caring person. Maybe she helps other family members, or her husband’s family. Before all the chaos she taught school, small children, I think. I’m not sure why she gave it up.”
“Why doesn’t she do that now?”
“I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t pay enough.”
York thought about the eight people Jaeger was hiding in her house. It had to take a considerable amount of money to support them, especially when buying food on the black market. No wonder she worked three or four jobs.
“She sounds like a truly remarkable person,” he said. It was an easy statement to make; he honestly believed it.
“She is.”
“How about Gerhard Faber?”
“I don’t know him that well, but he makes me feel uncomfortable. I’m not sure why. He likes to flirt with Erika, but she doesn’t respond. I don’t think she likes him.”
“Albert Kaiser?”
“He’s a good man, almost like a father to me. He likes to tell stories.”
“What type of stories?”
She smiled. “Albert has a story for everything. Just ask him.”
“Military background?”
She thought for a moment. “No, not that I know of.”
“Captain Klein?”
“A strange man. He pretends to be our manager, but I think his role is to observe us. He does have a military background. I believe he was stationed in France during the last war, and during the beginning of this one. But he’s too old to fight, so he returned to Berlin. He’s a friend of Albert’s. They live in the same apartment building.”
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