by Alex Gerlis
‘Yes please.’
‘What time?’
‘Around 11 o’clock, possibly a bit later, but certainly by noon. From here?’
‘No, most certainly not. When you leave here, we’ll never see each other again. You should avoid Wedding anyway, the Gestapo have too many people around here. What you want will be ready from 11 o’clock. Will you be around the centre of Berlin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know Ku’damm?’
He shook his head.
‘It is actually called Kurfürstendamm, but everyone knows it as Ku’damm. It’s a very well-known street in the south of Charlottenburg: before the war it was very fashionable. Now, nowhere is fashionable. Go to Uhland Strasse U-Bahn and come out on the Kurfürstendamm exit, then cross the road and head west for two or three blocks – not far. On the corner of Kurfürstendamm and Bleibtreustrasse, you’ll see a kiosk set back in the wall; it sells newspapers, cigarettes, that kind of thing. Don’t be put off by the swastikas and the pictures of Hitler. Tell the old lady in the kiosk you’ve come to collect Magda’s cigarettes: she’ll hand you a pack of Juno. What you need will be inside the packet, but put it straight in your pocket, buy a newspaper and leave. Carry on up Bleibtreustrasse and take the second left, Niebuhr Strasse. Open the packet when you get into Niebuhr Strasse, there’ll be a note there telling you where to go. Now, I need to check you’ve remembered all that.’
***
At six o’clock on the morning of Tuesday 25th March, Henry finally gave up trying to force himself back to sleep, as he had been attempting to do for most of the night. They had all come to visit him during his brief spells of sleep: Roza, of course, but also her brother and the man in the perfume shop in Essen. Even Foxi the dog. They’d all been shouting at him. Rosa had appeared and for a brief moment she sat on the end of the bed alongside Roza.
Henry had a bath then sat on the floor, with maps spread out before him. He had been absorbed in these since returning to the Excelsior late the previous afternoon. He could see the routes; there was no doubt about that. He wandered over to the window. Down on Saarland Strasse a group of Waffen SS were happily chatting away and slapping each other on the back. Not for the first time since he arrived in Berlin, he felt real fear. His chest tightened and the maps shook as his hands trembled.
I don’t have to do this. I’m not committed to anything. If I abandon my plans now, no-one will know.
Back to the maps: during his training by the British he had been told he was a natural map reader: he could study a map and its contents would come to life; he was immediately able to picture the area as if he were observing it from above and could envisage different routes and all the options available to him.
First of all there was the map of Berlin, then that of Germany. It appeared straightforward; he knew where he had to be and how to get there, but he could not foresee the hazards and he knew there would be plenty of those.
He checked out of the Excelsior at 8.30 that morning, assuring one of the over-attentive managers on duty he had indeed enjoyed his stay, everything had indeed been to his satisfaction and he would most certainly consider staying at the Excelsior when he returned to Berlin.
There was a light drizzle as he walked to the Opernplatz, where the expanse of St Hedwig’s Cathedral rose before him. He reminded himself of Edgar’s instructions.
Don’t enter the cathedral before five to nine.
He paused at the entrance to Opernplatz. It was 8.50 and, realising it was too early, he found a stone bench to sit on, despite the rain. He waited, steeling himself to go in. He had a passionate dislike of churches, buoyed by a fear he had first encountered in his childhood, that churches were the one place where secrets weren’t safe; even the statues and gargoyles seemed to know all about him.
Five to nine.
Enter the cathedral through the main entrance.
A few people were coming down the steps after the eight o’clock Mass.
And don’t forget to cross yourself.
Find a seat about halfway along, between the entrance and main altar.
The cathedral was enormous and there must have been no more than two dozen people dotted around it, sitting alone or in pairs, all in silent prayer.
If he’s seen all is clear, Hugo will appear on the same row as you and sit two or three seats away. Don’t expect to see him before 9.10. But if he hasn’t appeared by 9.20, leave the church and walk back to Unter den Linden. Don’t look around for him.
Ten past nine. The cathedral was much emptier now as the last Mass worshippers had left and made their way to work. He tried hard to close his eyes and hope some spiritual feeling would come to him, something to reassure him and tell him everything would turn out right. Nothing, but at least the ghost of Roza did not appear. He became aware of a scrape of chairs alongside him as someone moved down his row.
Don’t look directly at him, but do look in his direction so you can be sure it’s him.
It was Hugo, dressed in a long black coat, and clutching a hat and briefcase.
If he places his briefcase on a chair either side of him that’s a sign of danger. Leave immediately. If the briefcase remains on the floor, all is well.
The briefcase was on the floor. He saw Hugo remove a bible from the small wooden receptacle on the back of the chair in front of him and slip something into it.
Remain where you are until Hugo has finished and left. Then you’ll know how to retrieve the document.
After five minutes Hugo finished praying. He returned the bible to where he had taken it from, stood up and left.
The document will be folded in the middle of the bible. Remove it as soon as you can.
He stood up and straightened his coat, and when he sat down again it was in the seat next to the one Hugo had previously occupied. He picked up the bible Hugo had left and opened it: the document was indeed in the centre, folded as if ready to be inserted into a narrow envelope. He glanced around, but no-one was close to him or looking in his direction, apart from a reproachful medieval saint or two. Within seconds, the document was inside his jacket pocket.
Once you’ve retrieved the document remain in your seat for another five minutes. Remember to pray.
He thumbed through the bible and stopped randomly. It was a psalm, 130: ‘Waiting for the Redemption of the Lord’. ‘Out of the depths I have cried to you O Lord. Lord hear my voice!’ A shiver ran down his spine and he looked up to see if anyone was watching him now. He looked back at the psalm. ‘For with the Lord there is mercy, And with Him is abundant redemption’.
He found himself shaking and becoming so hot the sweat from his hands was staining the page. He glanced up and saw a stone angel on a pillar near him looked like Roza. He had never been a religious man; it was alien to his ideology. But he was quite clear now. What he had just read decided him. He was certain. He had to concentrate very hard now to remember Edgar’s instructions.
Put the bible back behind the seat and leave the cathedral. Don’t forget to kneel and cross yourself. There’s a chapel just before the porch from where you leave the cathedral. Hugo will be in there: if he gets up to leave as you go past and his coat is folded across his arm, you’ll know all is well. He’ll follow you but don’t look round. Leave through Opernplatz then walk down Oberwallstrasse: if Hugo is certain you’re not being followed he’ll approach you before you go into the Reichsbank to check everything is in order.
As he walked past the chapel he glimpsed Hugo beginning to follow him out, his coat folded across his arm. He walked through Opernplatz back into Unter den Linden and, after a block, turned right into Oberwallstrasse, which was a long, narrow street leading down to Französischestrasse and the Reichsbank. About halfway along the road was filled with rubble from what appeared to be a bombed building. He paused to look up at it, allowing Hugo to catch up with him.
‘Everything appears to be alright. I’ll walk with you as far as the Reichsbank. You have the document safe?’
‘Good. Make sure you get a proper envelope from Reinhart to put it in, along with some other Reichsbank papers – and don’t forget to get him to seal it. It’s essential it looks like a normal letter from the Reichsbank to Bank Leu, I’m sure you realise that. Then go straight to Tempelhof.’
‘Franz!’
A smartly dressed man was striding towards them. ‘Oh no,’ Hugo muttered, then under his breath said, ‘Give me a minute; I need to get rid of him. I’m giving you directions to the Reichsbank, remember that.’
‘What are you doing down here Franz? You should be in the office. I’m on the way there myself.’
Henry had a feeling he knew the man, but could not place him. He was wearing a formal suit and spoke with a Berlin accent. He had begun to stare at Henry, as if he recognised him too.
‘Yes Alois, I’m on my way to the office too. I’d been at Mass and this gentleman asked me to direct him to the Reichsbank.’
‘I think we may have met.’ The man Hermann had called Alois had now turned to face Henry, positioning himself uncomfortably close. Henry was convinced they had met, but had no idea when or where.
‘Are you from Switzerland, by any chance?’
Henry replied that he was. He could now remember the man. Franz Hermann was standing behind him and looking worried.
‘Alois – I do need to get to the office. Perhaps you’ll join me? I’m sure our friend now knows his way to the Reichsbank.’
Alois ignored Hermann. ‘I remember now! Bern, last June – we met at the Schweizerhof. My name is Alois Jäger: I said you should contact me if you were ever in Berlin. Do you recall our meeting?’
Henry noticed the Nazi Party badge on Jäger’s lapel. ‘Yes…’ he said hesitantly, appearing to recollect their meeting from the back of his memory. ‘I do remember. Of course I do.’
‘You name is Henri, correct?’
Henry nodded.
‘And what brings you to Berlin?’
‘I’m here on business.’
‘For whom, may I ask?’
‘Bank Leu – I work for Bank Leu in Zürich. I have business on their behalf at the Reichsbank.’
‘Ah – a Swiss banker! I’m most impressed. I have some good friends at the Reichsbank. Perhaps you know Herr…’
‘I should explain, Herr Jäger – I’m just a courier. My dealings with the Reichsbank are limited to delivering and collecting documents, I’m afraid.’
‘Don’t worry my friend. It’s all very important. I’m told the support we’re getting from the Swiss banks is proving to be a lifeline for Germany: such discretion – we’re so grateful. And you’re from Zürich, a most charming city, so… proper.’
Jäger paused for a moment. ‘But I’m confused Herr Hesse,’ he said. ‘When we met in Bern you said you were from Geneva? You were travelling to Stuttgart, I think, on business. I recall that because I remember wondering why such a good German speaker was from Geneva.’
Henry could see Hermann’s eyes shine with fear. ‘Geneva, you say? Ah yes! For a while I did live there, but now I live in Zürich and work for Bank Leu.’
‘So you’re no longer in business?’
‘No, no longer.’
‘I see,’ said Jäger, sounding unsure. ‘And what a remarkable coincidence that not only should I encounter you today in Berlin, but you should also be talking with my good friend and colleague Herr Hermann. You looked as though you knew each other – it shows what a hospitable city Berlin has become under the Führer. Perhaps we could have dinner tonight – the three of us?’
Henry explained he was leaving Berlin that day. ‘In fact, I have a flight from Tempelhof at 12.30.’
‘Well, I want you to promise the next time you are in Berlin, you’ll contact me? We shall have a meal together. What do you think Franz?’
All three men agreed this was a most agreeable idea as they walked together to the end of Oberwallstrasse, where they enthusiastically shook hands: Alois Jäger and Franz Hermann then turned right towards their office in Friederichstrasse, Henry left towards Werderscher Markt.
Henry was shocked. Jäger was clearly suspicious and the fact he was wearing a Nazi Party badge and Hugo looked so horrified was a worry. He would have had even more cause for concern had he looked around just before he entered the Reichsbank and noticed the formal figure of Alois Jäger watching him from the other side of the road.
***
When Henri Hesse presented himself at the Reichsbank reception his heart was racing, his chest felt tight, he was perspiring heavily and beginning to feel quite unwell. It was 10.30. His options were still open: he could exchange documents with Reinhart, go to Tempelhof, return to Switzerland and please both his masters. But the chance reading of the psalm in the cathedral had made up his mind: he would take a much harder option, but one he knew would bring him peace.
Gunter Reinhart appeared to have aged ten years in the short time since Henry had last seen him and, other than thanking him once again for taking Alfred to Switzerland, said very little. He took the envelope from Bank Leu, signed for it and handed over the sealed envelope for him to take back to Switzerland.
‘I need you to give me another envelope, perhaps with another document in it?’ said Henry. ‘I’d then like to put something in myself and ask you to re-seal it.’
The German looked uncomfortable.
‘I said to Hedinger, this has to be the last time. I can’t risk this anymore. You took Alfred to Switzerland, for which I’m eternally grateful, and in return I supplied the directive. Now I’ve done you this one more favour. Life is getting too dangerous: if I give any more cause to suspect me, then not only will I be in danger but so will Rosa and Sophia, not to mention my wife and children, of course. You must promise me this, don’t ask me to help again. Don’t come back to Berlin, you understand? It’s too dangerous, far too dangerous.’
He took another envelope from a drawer, found a few sheets from a tray on his desk and slipped them in. Henry carefully inserted the papers he had taken from the bible between the sheets and handed the envelope back to Reinhart to seal it.
Henry promised Reinhart they would never meet again, which was not difficult as he had every intention of keeping it. It was unusual for him to make a promise he intended to keep.
After leaving Werderscher Markt, he travelled by U-Bahn to Uhland Strasse. Kato’s instructions had been clear enough. He came out on the Kurfürstendamm exit, crossed the road then headed west as far as the corner with Bleibtreustrasse.
Sure enough, there was a kiosk set back in the wall, with narrow swastika banners hanging down from either side of a large advertising sign: ‘Berlin Raucht Juno’; Berlin smokes Juno. Lucky Berlin.
The old lady in the kiosk appeared to be wearing two coats and had a scarf wrapped round her head with a woollen hat on top it. Behind her was a large picture of Hitler at a slightly jaunty angle and in front of her a small queue of people in a hurry. He courteously allowed a woman in a fur coat to go first so, by the time it was his turn to be served, there was no-one else waiting.
‘I have come to collect Magda’s cigarettes.’
The old lady glanced up at him and held eye contact for a moment before she scanned the street behind him. He wondered whether he was meant to say anything else: had he forgotten something? He added ‘Please’ and smiled.
She bent down and, from under the counter, produced a white packet of Juno cigarettes, which she pressed into his hands. As he slipped the packet into his pocket, he could tell there was something heavier inside than cigarettes. By now he had been joined at the front of the kiosk by two Waffen SS officers. He picked up a copy of the Völkischer Beobachter and placed two Reichsmarks into the old lady’s mittened hands. By the time she had pocketed the money she had already turned her attention to the SS men.
Niebuhr Strasse was a quiet street, in marked contrast to the bustle of the Ku’damm. He stood in the doorway of a dress shop
and removed the packet of Juno from his pocket. There were only four or five cigarettes in it and he placed one straight into mouth and lit it – it would have looked too suspicious to do otherwise. Tucked into the packet was a car key attached to a small metal disk with the word ‘Opel’ engraved on it. There was also a folded slip of paper, which he unwrapped: UTM 142.
He looked down the street. There were few cars parked on it but he could not see the one he was looking for. He walked down the block and the last car on the corner before Schlüterstrasse was an Opel Super 6 sedan: UTM 142. It was a handsome car; four doors, dark green, white wall tyres and neither too clean nor too dirty that it might stand out.
He unlocked the door and settled into the driver’s seat. The car had a musty smell to it, a mixture of damp and old leather. ‘I’ll do my best to get hold of the papers you need, but it won’t be easy,’ Kato had told him the previous afternoon. ‘Whatever I can get will be in the glove box, inside the log book.’
He reached across to the glove box in front of the passenger seat and removed the black-leather log book, with the word ‘Opel’ in faded silver on the cover. The back cover of the book formed a sleeve and within that was what he had asked for: identity cards and a form showing that the owner of UTM 142 was entitled to buy petrol. Tucked behind the log book was something hard wrapped in a thick grey cloth.
‘The car has been hidden in Weissensee since before the war began,’ Kato had told him. ‘A mechanic who’s a secret Party member has been looking after it. He now works in an SS garage, so he’s been able to obtain the correct documentation. I’ve kept the paperwork up to date. I was keeping it for an emergency, but if Viktor says… The identity cards won’t be easy, not with so little time. It’s possible to purchase these things though; the black market is very active at the moment. Do you have money I can use, by any chance?’
He had handed her a substantial sum of Swiss Francs and her eyes lit up. ‘That should make it much easier,’ she said. ‘I’ll do what I can.’