Berlin: A Novel

by Pierre Frei

  'These gentlemen are from the Vice Squad,' Fredie explained with derision. He was in his dressing gown, drying his hair, and appeared more annoyed than anxious. There seemed to be no immediate danger.

  The superintendent cleared his throat. 'You are Marlene Kaschke, the tenant of this apartment?'

  And you are a lout!' Marlene retorted. 'Kindly take your hat off. What do you want?'

  Eggebrecht actually did take his hat off. Another tenant in this building has laid a complaint against you for your immoral way of life.'

  And you believe such nonsense? Well, I'm going to make breakfast. Would you like a cup of coffee?'

  She made for the kitchen, but Meiser roughly grabbed her wrist. 'You'll stay in here and answer our questions.'

  She placed a sharply pointed heel on his left foot and turned it slowly back and forth. Meiser screamed. 'Behave yourself, you boor,' she said defiantly. Furious, the officer took let go of her.

  'Leave it out, Meiser,' said the superintendent, calming him.

  And just who are you?' Meiser jabbed Fredie in the ribs with two fingers at each word.

  Alfred Neubert, Fraulein Kaschke's fiance. You have no right to burst in here like this. Or do you have a search warrant?'

  'Don't get fresh with me, kid.' Meiser jabbed him in the ribs again.

  The superintendent remained courteous. 'Fraulein Kaschke, witnesses have noticed a great many gentlemen visiting you.'

  'Oh yes? And what sort of witnesses might those be?'

  A man named Ebel on the third floor,' Meiser told her. A bookkeeper with an excellent reputation. He has no reason to lie.'

  And moreover, you are often collected from this building by luxury automobiles or taxis,' Superintendent Eggebrecht continued. 'To visit clients, I assume.'

  'You assume quite correctly,' said Fredie, his voice calm. As a secretary with a good knowledge of foreign languages, my fiancee naturally works outside her home now and then.'

  'This pimp's trying to pull a fast one on us!' cried Meiser.

  'I can refer you to the Prussian Interior Ministry,' said Fredie coldly. As a senior civil servant in that ministry, Dr Noack does not, of course, have to give information to a snotty-nosed little cop like you. But he will be happy to confirm to the superintendent here that the ministry commissions Fraulein Kaschke to translate documents for them and also recommends her to international clients. These clients then either visit Fraulein Kaschke here or ask her to go to their own offices or hotels.' Fredie reached for the telephone.

  The superintendent made a deprecating gesture. 'Oh, there's no need, Herr Neubert. Please excuse us, Fraulein Kaschke. Come on, Meiser.' The officers left.

  Marlene hugged Fredie. 'Wow, that was great! You really showed them. But suppose they come back?'

  'Just leave that to me.' Fredie dialled a number. 'Neubert here. Please put me through to Dr Noack. Hello? Good morning, Major. Yes, a great victory for us all, isn't it? And now I expect there'll be some mopping-up operations. Of characters like a man called Meiser in the Vice Squad. for example. He actually dared to question whether you had been recommending my fiancee Fraulein Kaschke as a secretary with foreign language skills. The man's a Social Democrat or worse. It's possible that his superior officer Superintendent Eggebrecht may be in touch with you, and perhaps you should let him know just what his subordinates are like. Heil Hitler, Major.' Pleased with himself, Fredie hung up.

  Marlene giggled. 'Heil who?'

  Fredie grinned. 'Heil Hitler. That's how the new Reich Chancellor likes to be addressed. He's an Austrian, he's a bit crazy. But I joined his bunch to be on the safe side. Noack's been in it longer than me. You have to back the right horse.'

  She pressed close to him. 'Hey, I really fancy you today.'

  'Come on, then,' he said graciously.

  On Wednesday Ebel, a cross-grained bachelor, was attacked and beaten up by a troop of Brownshirts on his way home. He died on his way to Westend Hospital. Marlene heard nothing about the incident.

  There was a healthy smell of soft soap in the hall of the building. The sound of children's voices drifted from of a ground-floor apartment. Marlene climbed the stairs. 'Giese' she read in ornate black lettering on an oval white enamel nameplate on the second floor. She pressed the bell beside it.

  Franz Giese opened the door at once. He was wearing a dark suit with a pale-grey tie, attire he had probably copied from Herr Eulenfels. 'Goodness, you do look smart!' Embarrassed, he looked down at the floor. 'May I come in?' Tulips glowed brightly on the round dining table in the living room, a luxury at this time of year. The dining chairs had dark-red, velour upholstery. There was a bottle of wine on the walnut sideboard, and above it hung a gilt-framed picture of a rutting stag in an autumnal woodland landscape. Lace covers adorned the velour sofa, and a potted plant - an African hemp - stood on the window sill. It was all neat and nice. He doesn't often use this room, she thought.

  Franz Giese opened the bottle. A glass of Piesporter to welcome you? It's really nice of you to come.'

  Just in time she stopped herself saying, well, you paid enough for it. 'You have a pretty place here, really comfortable.' She tried to imagine his bedroom. Probably dark oak with a slight musty smell about the pillows. She'd find out soon enough, that was what she was here for. She wondered when he'd get down to business. Some of her clients were keen to get going at once, others needed a long build up. With hopeless cases she took the initiative herself.

  They sat down. 'Cheers.' He raised his glass, put it down without drinking, turned it back and forth. This looked like a sticky start.

  'Your health, Herr Giese. So you come from Breslau?'

  'With a little detour by way of France. I was there at the end of that unholy mess. They sent the regiment straight on to Berlin. We were supposed to put down the rebels.' He spoke calmly and thoughtfully. 'Most of us refused to shoot at our countrymen. The commanding officer was furious, shouted stuff about refusing to obey orders and called us deserters. "What His Majesty can do, we can do as well," I told him to his face, and I was off before he got his breath back. Well, I stayed in Berlin. I was a mechanic in a workshop for big trucks, I'd learnt about them in the army. Then I was a delivery driver for the Tietz department store, and now I'm chauffeur to Herr Eulenfels. Our local union found me the job. I'd better tell you I'm a Socialist.'

  'What, a real Red?'

  'Not exactly. We Reform Socialists don't want to take stuff away from someone just because he owns more than we do. We want our sort to be better off, without making anyone else worse off for it.' He took plates, cutlery and paper napkins out of the sideboard. 'I hope you like pork chops.' Marlene was taken aback. She had not been expecting an invitation to supper.

  'With green peas. You can get them in a can. I'm no great cook. Back in a minute. Drink all you like, there's another bottle.' He disappeared. She heard pans clattering and meat sizzling in the kitchen.

  The boiled potatoes had been roughly cut up into irregular chunks. Marlene chuckled. 'I see peeling potatoes isn't your strong point.'

  'There's no woman about the house.'

  For dessert he brought out a cake on which the confectioner had piped Marlene in white icing. He waited with bated breath for her reaction.

  'But it's not my birthday until June,' she protested.

  'Never mind. Coffee and a kirsch with it?'

  She glanced surreptitiously at the time. Something really had to happen soon if she was going to be home when she planned. 'No coffee, thank you. And we can drink the kirsch in the bedroom.'

  It took Franz Giese a moment to understand. 'You thought I'd invited you because I wanted to ...'

  Her Riibenstrasse accent broke through as she said robustly, 'Well, that wasn't such a daft idea, was it? Not when you gave me a hundred and fifty, plus an extra termer for the taxi!'

  'I never thought of anything like that. I just wanted to see you. I like you very much. I hope that when you know me better ... Fraulein Marlene, my intention
s are honourable, if you know what I mean.'

  'Oh, come on, just call me Lene.' She was touched. She swallowed a couple of times, because she didn't find it easy to dash his hopes. 'I have someone already, Herr Giese.'

  Face grave, he devoted his attention to his piece of gateau. 'I've been thinking about a little haulage business. Starting with a three-wheeled van, they have a surprisingly big load area. Later we could expand, get a threeaxled truck, employ a driver. Not a great future, but I'd make a decent living.'

  'I'm from Riibenstrasse. Know it?'

  In Moabit. Not a very nice area.'

  'Not nice at all. The children there are born with bones like rubber because no one eats enough fruit and vegetables. If you don't get out of it as fast as you can you're finished.' She reverted to her educated German accent. 'It was Fredie who got me out of Riibenstrasse. We've waded through a lot of muck together, but the outlook's good. Fredie knows the right people. He has a great career ahead of him, and I want to be part of it.'

  'Will he marry you?'

  'Does marriage matter?' She knew just how much it mattered to her.

  'I want you to be my wife.'

  She shed a few tears. Then she had to laugh because he couldn't get his handkerchief out of his breast pocket for her; he had folded it and fixed it in place with a safety pin. Instead, she blew her nose vigorously on her paper napkin.

  'It doesn't make any difference,' he said firmly. 'I want to marry you.'

  '... I hereby declare you man and wife; allow me to be the first to congratulate you.' The registrar shook hands with the newly married couple. Bright, June sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the panelled room, falling on Grandmother Mine's lace scarf, which Marlene had draped over her blonde hair. She buried her face in her fragrant bridal bouquet.

  She reached for the bridegroom's hand. She still couldn't believe it: his almost casual question three weeks ago, her hesitant answer, the proposal. Everything would be different now - no, much better - oh, come on, it would be really good!

  Fredie looked fabulous in his light, summer suit. He had been different recently, really nice and pleasant. He'd been bringing her flowers and little presents and taking her out.

  'If I may ask for your signatures?' The registrar was waiting at the desk under the portrait of the Reich President. Fredie signed with a flourish. She wrote slowly in her girlish hand: 'Marlene Neubert, nee Kaschke'. Like a dream, only much better.

  The two witnesses signed next: Dr Friedhelm Noack, who'd been promoted within a few months from his civil service post to a new body, where he was head of his own department, and his secretary, Frau Hermine Anders. In honour of the day, Noack had a carnation in his buttonhole and was in jovial mood. He kissed Marlene's cheek. 'I hope the bride will remain kindly disposed towards me.' She knew what that meant. He had made the arrangements for their wedding breakfast at Horcher's in Lutherstrasse, just why Marlene was not sure. 'To your health, children.' He raised a glass to them.

  'Thank you very much, Obersturmbannfiihrer!' said Fredie, addressing his mentor by this new title. It denoted a rank more or less corresponding to lieutenant-colonel.

  'Much work lies ahead of us. The F6hrer needs everyone to be at his place. Or hers - you too, my dear Frau Marlene.' The turtle soup grew cold as Noack embarked on a long discursion on the new Germany. What a load of guff, Marlene thought.

  Dr Noack was one of the founders of the new Secret State Police, the Geheime Staatspolizei, soon to be abbreviated to the Gestapo. He had appointed Fredie to his staff, in a special operations department. That meant salary group [llc, and came with the rank of an SS Hauptsturmfiihrer, roughly equivalent to a captain. Marlene remained unimpressed. 'Just so long as the cash is OK.'

  It obviously was, for how else could they have afforded their new home, a house on the Kleiner Wannsee with a big kitchen, a tiled bathroom, and a garden running down to the water? She had clapped her hands with delight. 'Oh, just look! What lucky people lived here before us?'

  'Jewish riffraff. But they're gone now, like your Eulenfels.' Eulenfels had been obliged to sell his publishing empire for a fraction of its value, and had moved to London with what was left.

  A cultivated man, Herr Eulenfels. He was very nice to me,' she defended her former client.

  Marlene let herself down cautiously from the landing stage into the water. It came up to her shoulders if she dared to stand on the bottom rung of the ladder. She couldn't swim, but she loved the summer warmth of the Kleiner Wannsee. She squealed with glee as the wake of a motorboat racing by lifted her up off her feet. Then she climbed back to the landing stage. Time to make lunch. Fredie came home from the office early on a Saturday. She felt free and happy in her new surroundings, light years away from the squalor of Riibenstrasse and the demands of paying clients. Now she just had her husband and her own home to think of. She even entertained the idea of a baby. She'd talk to Fredie.

  At one o'clock an open-topped, silver-grey Horch bearing the SS badge stopped outside the house. It was the official car of Obersturmbannfahrer Dr Noack, who was in his black uniform today. Fredie preferred a white, raw silk suit. Because of those special operations, he could wear what he chose.

  'Enchanting.' Noack's eyes lingered on her figure. She hadn't been expecting a visitor, and was wearing only an apron over her bathing suit. She took the bathing suit off in the bedroom, slipped quickly into a lightweight summer dress, and then laid a third place. They ate in the garden, under an old birch tree. There were stuffed peppers with rice, and a light Mosel to drink. Marlene had acquired some culinary skills. She took her housewifely duties seriously.

  Over coffee, Dr Noack got down to business. As I'm sure you have guessed, I didn't come just for lunch, for which thank you very much, by the way, it was excellent. Your husband has asked me to explain what we expect of you.'

  An uneasy feeling came over her.

  Noack took two spoonfuls of sugar and stirred his coffee in a leisurely manner. 'It's about the Communist leader Eddie Talberg. A dangerous enemy of the German people. There's a warrant out for his arrest. He got wind of it and has gone underground. One man certainly knows where Talberg is hiding: his friend the writer Dr Erwin Kastner, one of those intellectuals tainted by Jewish influence who foul their own nests, although we've spared them until now. Kastner goes to the Romanesque Cafe every afternoon. You will make his acquaintance there and find out from him where Talberg is hiding. Much depends on your success, not least the career of your husband. He will give you the details.' Noack rose to his feet and went into the house.

  'Fredie, what's all this about?'

  'It won't be difficult for you to get to know Kastner in the Romanesque, I'm sure.'

  'Fine. So I get to know this Dr Kastner, apparently by chance. Then what? Am I supposed to ask, "Oh, and just by the way, where's your friend Talberg hiding?"'

  'They all talk in bed.'

  It took her a few seconds to realize what he was asking. 'I won't do it,' she said firmly.

  'You'll do what I want you to do.' He forced her back against the trunk of the old birch tree. Noack was watching from the study window. Fredie pushed her thin dress up to her hips. She was naked under it. He raised her left knee and took her violently, standing. She screamed like an animal. When he had finished, he twisted her arm brutally behind her back and led her into the house. Noack was sitting on the couch. Fredie forced her to her knees in front of him. 'Go on, do it,' he ordered.

  Afterwards she went into the bathroom to gargle and shower. Fredie handed her a towel. 'It's not that bad, girl.' He patted her bottom as if to mollify her. 'Noack can do us no end of good if you play along, so don't make such a fuss about it.'

  'Why did you marry me?' she asked, painfully.

  A long-standing fiancee with lots of different gentlemen friends no longer suits our sound and healthy German national mood. With these new bigwigs in charge you have to look moral to the outside world.'

  She dressed in a light pullov
er, wide-legged, pale-grey flannel trousers and sandals. She looked at herself in the mirror, a pretty young married woman, fashionably dressed, with an ambitious husband and a home in a prime location. That was how any observer who didn't know better would see her. And you're nothing but a tart,' she spat at her reflection in the glass.

  Fredie was in a deckchair on the terrace, reading the Lokalanzeiger. 'Fabulous!' he cried. 'There's a million and a half motorcars in the country now. Every forty-second German owns one. What do you think of a nice convertible?'

  'What do you think of the S-Bahn?' She brought him down to earth. 'You could take it into town and get me some of this Erwin Kastner's books. From now on I'm one of his greatest fans.'

  Astonishing what a bit of exercise against a birch tree will do,' he mocked her.

  'One of these days I'll murder you, Fredie,' she replied equably.

  Marlene had been reading a great deal lately She indiscriminately consumed everything written by Stefan Zweig. Hedwig Courths-Mahler, Theodor Fontane, Thea von Harbou and many more. The former owners of the house had left their library behind. She spent two days and half a night reading Erwin Kastner's The Family Visit, The Peep-Show and The Giraffe's Guide. They were satirical commentaries on modern life. Marlene sensed rather than understood that the author was knocking holes in grandiose facades.

  On Tuesday she went into town, very much the chic Berliner, tall and slim, her blonde hair fashionably set. She noted admiring looks from men, and expertly parried several attempts to approach her. At Stiller's she bought a pair of shoes, and in the Wertheim department store some artificial silk stockings. At Aschingers she allowed herself a couple of sausages for lunch, and in the afternoon she went into the Romanesque Cafe near the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church.

  There was a picture of the author on the dust jacket of one of his books, and she recognized him at once. Erwin Kastner was a dapper little man with wavy grey hair. There was nothing Bohemian about him; he looked more like a kindly public-school teacher in his neatly pressed suit. He was sitting at a little marble table with a dozen well-sharpened pencils in front of him, and a pad of lined writing paper which he was covering with spindly handwriting. Marlene watched him from the next table. Now and then he raised his head, as if searching in the distance for the next part of his story.