The Pathfinder

by Margaret Mayhew

  ‘She is. And with the most tremendous courage.’

  ‘From what you told me, she’s had a pretty rotten time for years.’

  ‘You can’t imagine how rotten. I was trying to explain to my mother, but of course, it’s impossible for her to understand. She was absolutely horrified when I told her about Lili. Appalled about the whole idea. A German girl! Disaster for my career, no background, on the make, and so on . . . you can picture it.’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid I can.’

  ‘I had to promise not to tell my father – for the time being anyway. She’s terrified he’d have another stroke on the spot.’

  ‘I don’t believe he would, Michael. I think he’s made of sterner stuff than that. He might not like the idea – at first – but he’d come around to it. And he’d trust your judgement.’

  He smiled again and touched her hand lightly. ‘Thanks, Celia. Even so, I’ll keep my promise for the moment – until he’s stronger. I daren’t risk it.’

  She looked down at his wrist. ‘You still have your Luftwaffe watch.’

  ‘I’ve got rather used to it, and I haven’t had a chance to pick up my old RAF one yet. Actually, it nearly caused me a spot of real bother recently.’ He told her about being arrested by the police and locked up in a cell.

  She looked alarmed. ‘Isn’t it better to stay out of the Russian sector?’

  ‘It’s where Lili lives. Besides, we’re perfectly entitled to go there, so long as we carry our ID, though it’s not exactly encouraged. The Berliners go to and fro across the sector borders the whole time, of course. They’re the ones usually at risk. The Russians have a nasty habit of making off with various civilians they claim are breaking the law, but the blockade’s put a bit of a curb on their activities.’

  ‘What happens to the people they take?’

  ‘Nobody knows. They just disappear.’

  She shivered. ‘How much longer will you have to stay there?’

  ‘No idea. Until the blockade is lifted, I imagine. And, before you ask, I’ve no idea when that will be either. When the Russians finally see sense and give in.’

  ‘Will you get married in Berlin?’

  ‘That’s the general idea. I was in the middle of going through all the rigmarole to arrange it when I was called home. The plan is that we come home to live here as soon as possible.’

  ‘You’ll be saving Lili, Michael. Getting her away from that hateful place.’

  He said drily, ‘Actually, I’ve had the dickens of a job persuading her to agree to leave it at all. It took some convincing to get her to marry me.’

  ‘Does she know about what you did in the war?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ He nodded. ‘We had quite a set-to about that in the beginning. I’ve often thought that maybe it was my Lanc that dropped the bomb that hit her home – when her mother and grandmother died. Pretty far-fetched considering the numbers, but still. We bombed the city to smithereens, as you know – us and the Americans between us. Literally smashed it to pieces. You can’t really imagine how terrible it is until you actually go there and see it. But I believe we were right. Absolutely right. It was the only way to exterminate the Nazis.’ He paused and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Anyway, I don’t think Lili holds it against me any more.’

  ‘Do you hold anything against her – as a German, I mean? I was thinking of Elizabeth and the boys, for instance.’

  ‘How could I possibly blame her for that? Of course not.’

  ‘That’s all right, then.’

  He drove her back to her flat and stopped the car outside. ‘Thanks for this evening, Celia. And for everything.’

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘Yes, everything. Being so decent always. And so sane.’ He hesitated, not knowing how to put it. ‘I hope I’ve never hurt you in any way. I should hate to have done that.’

  ‘Of course not. And I wish you all the happiness in the world, Michael.’

  He leaned across and kissed her gently – first her cheek and then, because it was so close, her mouth. ‘Thanks again.’

  She got out of the car and walked quickly to the flat entrance. He waited to see if she would turn to wave, as she usually did, but she went straight inside without looking back.

  Sixteen

  Being completely alone in the apartment at night had begun to terrify Lili. She lay awake listening to every sound – the rats running, the water dripping, every creak and rustle and movement in the ruined building. The Gestapo had come to arrest her father late at night – in the same way that they had come for the Jewish family above – hammering on the door and shouldering their way into the apartment. Brutal men with brutal faces. Her father had offered no resistance but he had been roughly handled just the same. Punched and kicked. She became convinced that the Russian sector police would come to get her and drag her off to the camp at Sachsenhausen. And she tortured herself imagining what might be happening to Dirk there, the dreadful state he might be in, the fear and misery that he might be suffering.

  When the doorbell rang late one evening she was too frightened to answer it. It rang again, and then again – a loud, insistent jangle echoing through the apartment. She crept into the hall, heart thudding, and heard Nico’s voice outside. ‘Lili, it’s me, Nico. Open the door, please. I have some news for you.’ She had never before been glad to see him – a fact which did not escape him. He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Poor thing, you have been in great distress, I can tell.’

  In the living room he took off his fur hat and the pigskin gloves and laid them side by side on the table. ‘Sit down, Lili, and I will explain the situation to you.’

  She sat down slowly, her eyes fixed on his face, which told her nothing. ‘Have you seen Dirk?’

  ‘No. They won’t allow it. All I can tell you is that he is there in the camp and that he is alive.’

  ‘Are you sure? He is alive?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. I always know when they’re lying. He’s still there and he’s still alive. Look, they gave me his lighter to return to you.’ He handed her the American Zippo lighter with the dent in one side. She would have recognized it anywhere. ‘At first, they wouldn’t play ball – not at any price. The prisoner is guilty of black-marketeering and he must pay the penalty. An example must be set, and so on . . . It’s possible, they said, that he may be sent to a labour camp in Russia. In which case, of course, we are unlikely to hear of him again. I found myself, for once, with no cards to play. Something that doesn’t often happen.’ He smiled at her. ‘And then I remembered the signet ring on your finger, and I realized that perhaps, after all, I had just one. Not an ace, or a king or queen, but quite a useful card nevertheless.’

  He was talking in riddles. ‘What do you mean? What card?’

  He fitted a cigarette into his holder and lit it. ‘I mentioned your engagement to a British squadron leader at Gatow. They were rather interested.’

  ‘I never said that we were engaged.’

  ‘But you are, aren’t you? Michael has asked you to marry him and you have said yes.’ He wagged a finger at her. ‘It’s no use denying it. I always know when you’re lying, too. You must understand, Lili, that the Russians are extremely anxious to learn anything and everything they can about the western Allies in Berlin, particularly in the present circumstances of the blockade. Even the smallest details can be useful to them. The little pieces from different sources all add up to make the whole picture. I suggested to them that in exchange for your brother’s release you would be willing to provide them with some of those details about the Allies. To tell them any little thing you learn through Michael.’

  She stared at him. ‘You mean, spy for them? I’d sooner be dead.’

  ‘It’s not your life that’s at stake, it’s Dirk’s, remember. You want him back, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Then listen to me, please. It’s a game, that’s all, and I will show you how to play it. You give them little morsels – trivia. They wo
n’t expect you to know state secrets. Just bits of this and that. Nothing of any great importance. Berlin is full of such exchanges between the sectors. Everybody likes to know what’s going on in the other ones.’

  She said angrily, ‘I never talk about such things with Michael.’

  ‘He’s in love with you, Lili. Very deeply in love. A man in love will discuss anything with his beloved – if she knows how to encourage him.’

  ‘I could never do such a thing. I refuse to.’

  He shrugged and picked up his hat and gloves. ‘Then you leave Dirk to his fate. Think about it, Lili. Let me know if you change your mind.’ He walked away towards the door.

  ‘Wait. Please, Nico.’

  He stopped and turned. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I can’t,’ she pleaded. ‘I can’t do it. I couldn’t deceive Michael.’

  He looked at her, his head on one side. ‘Couldn’t you, Lili?’

  Dirk has been blabbing when he was drunk on vodka, she thought in panic. Nico knows it all. She drew a long, deep breath and said quietly, ‘Anyway, Michael wouldn’t tell me anything. You don’t realize the sort of man he is.’

  ‘I assure you that I do. Probably much better than you. Naturally, he would never knowingly betray his country. Not a chap like Michael. Not in a thousand million years. But I’m sure you’ve talked about the airlift with him – in a general way. You’ve asked him how it’s getting on, when the British think it’ll be over, how they feel about it, their morale, all that sort of thing . . . and he’s told you. Not in great detail, just nice little snippets to pass on to our Russians. As I said, all quite trivial and no harm done, but interesting enough to persuade them that you could, perhaps, find out more eventually. Do you see? Of course, you put yourself at some risk – you do understand? But you have never been afraid to do that, have you, Lili? And if you want to save Dirk . . .’

  She said coldly, ‘Whose side are you on, Nico? I’ve always wondered.’

  ‘Whose side? Dear Lili, I’m on nobody’s side. You came to me and I’m simply trying to help you, that’s all. Isn’t that what I’ve always tried to do?’

  ‘Good evening. You are Fräulein Lili Leicht?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My name is Anatole Silogov. May I come in, please?’ He spoke good German but with a strong Russian accent and he looked like a Russian – high-cheekboned and with ice-grey eyes. He wore civilian clothing: a heavy, belted overcoat over a suit and a broad-brimmed felt hat: ugly, ill-fitting Russian clothes. Without a word she led the way into the living room and he glanced around briefly. She had the impression that in that short moment he took note of everything. He did not remove his hat.

  ‘Please sit down, Herr Silogov.’

  ‘I prefer to stand.’

  He produced a packet of cigarettes and a box of matches from his coat pocket. ‘Do you smoke?’

  ‘Not Russian cigarettes, thank you.’

  ‘You like American ones perhaps? The kind that your brother traded?’ She said nothing and waited while he tapped one end of the cigarette against the packet a few times before putting it in his mouth and striking a match. He blew out the flame and replaced the dead match carefully in the box with fingers stained yellow from nicotine. ‘Your brother has been arrested for black-marketeering and is in Sachsenhausen prison camp. You know that?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Black-marketeering is viewed by the authorities as a very serious crime. One that must be stamped out. It is very probable that your brother will be sent to a labour camp in Russia for many years.’ The cigarette smoke drifted towards her, rank as rotting weeds. She still said nothing. ‘We have been given some information about you, Fräulein Leicht, that is of interest to us. Is it true that you are on intimate terms with a Royal Air Force officer by the name of Squadron Leader Harrison who is based at Gatow airfield in the British sector of Berlin?’

  ‘I’m acquainted with him, yes.’

  ‘It’s our understanding that your relationship is rather more than that, Fräulein Leicht. That you are engaged to be married.’

  The signet ring was well hidden in a bag of flour. ‘You’re misinformed. There’s nothing official. Nothing at all.’

  ‘But you are sleeping with him?’

  ‘That’s not your business.’

  ‘Come, Fräulein Leicht. He visits you here frequently. Your grandfather is senile, your younger brother a chronic invalid. Squadron Leader Harrison went to the considerable trouble of arranging for them to be flown out of Berlin by the British. He is your lover.’

  She shrugged. ‘He’s very useful. He brings extra food, presents, chocolate, cigarettes . . . I don’t discourage him.’

  ‘Of course you don’t. No Berlin woman would be fool enough to do that. You string him along. And you talk with him . . . pillow talk. The squadron leader naturally speaks almost no German but you speak excellent English. French, too, I hear. What do you talk about?’

  ‘All kinds of things.’

  ‘Have you discussed the blockade?’

  It’s a game, that’s all. You give them little morsels – trivia. They won’t expect you to know state secrets. ‘Occasionally.’

  ‘And what does Squadron Leader Harrison say? What does he tell you about the British transport of supplies to Gatow by air?’

  She hesitated.

  ‘What does he say, Fräulein?’

  ‘He says that they can keep going indefinitely.’

  ‘So can the blockade. What else does he say?’

  ‘He thinks that now the winter’s nearly over, the blockade will probably be lifted within a few months.’

  ‘Why does he think that?’

  ‘I suppose because he believes the Russians will realize by then that it can’t work.’

  ‘And what else does he believe?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s all he has said on the subject.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘It’s the truth. It’s a dull subject to me. We talk about other things.’

  ‘Such as?’

  She shrugged again. ‘I really don’t remember.’

  ‘The weather perhaps?’ He seemed almost amused. ‘Don’t the English always like to talk about the weather?’

  ‘He talks about England sometimes.’

  ‘What does he say?’

  ‘That the countryside is very beautiful.’

  He drew on his cigarette. He had never once taken his eyes from her face. ‘And when did you last see Squadron Leader Harrison?’

  ‘More than a week ago. He’s on leave in England. His father was taken ill.’

  ‘The father who is General Sir Arnold Harrison. Recently retired from the British army.’

  Nico, she thought bitterly. Nico has told them all these things. The Russian said, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking, ‘It’s not very difficult for us to find out, Fräulein. One can look it up in a moment. When is Squadron Leader Harrison returning?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. When his father is better, I expect.’

  ‘And he will come hurrying here to see you as soon as he can.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘In which case, we should like you to continue your pillow talks and to relay these to us.’

  ‘And if I do?’

  ‘Your brother, Dirk, will be released from Sachsenhausen and allowed to return here.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘You will never see him again.’

  She steadied herself enough to reply quite calmly. ‘What would you want me to talk about?’

  ‘You will be told.’

  ‘He might suspect.’

  ‘Love is blind, Fräulein Leicht.’

  ‘If I am to do this, then my brother must be released now. Immediately.’

  ‘You’re in no position to bargain, Fräulein.’

  She met his eyes without flinching. Eyes that seemed to probe into her mind, detect every lie, divine every thought. ‘I don’t trust you, Herr Silogov. I want to
see him back home, alive and well. Before I do anything.’

  In the silence that followed, she held her breath. He smoked the cigarette, staring at her. She could not tell whether he was angry or amused, or what he was thinking. Or deciding.

  Dirk came home that night. Lili had gone to bed and was lying in the darkness, unable to sleep. At first she thought the scraping, scratching noise from the direction of the hallway was a rat, but it went on and on. She got up to investigate and found that it came from outside the front door.

  When she summoned the courage to open the door, her brother fell inwards at her feet.

  He slept for more than twenty-four hours. She had managed to drag him to his bed and wash the blood from his face, but there was nothing she could do about the bruises and the two missing teeth and the split lip and the black eye. When, at last, he woke up she fed him with warm soup and a little bread. She spooned the soup in carefully, trying not to hurt his swollen mouth. When he began to speak, it was a mumble.

  ‘Bastards kept beating me . . . asking questions.’

  ‘What sort of questions?’

  ‘Where I’d got the stuff, names, places . . . didn’t tell them, though, Lili.’ His one open eye gleamed triumphantly at her. ‘Not a thing.’

  She knew he expected her to be proud of him but she said harshly, ‘They were going to send you to a labour camp in Russia, do you realize that? For years. Perhaps for ever. I warned you what might happen.’

  ‘Anyway . . . they let me go.’

  ‘Because of Nico. I went to him for help. I had to.’

  ‘Good old Nico . . . knows everyone . . . can always fix things.’

  ‘Oh, yes, he can always fix everything. They came here. One of the Russians. To see me.’

  The gleam faded. ‘You? What for?’

  ‘To get me to spy for them. In exchange for letting you go.’

  ‘Spy . . . you? How?’

  ‘They want me to find out things from the squadron leader. About the British at Gatow. Everything I can. And tell them. I said that I would. That’s why they let you go.’

  ‘Oh, Lili . . .’

  ‘You have to get out,’ she said. ‘As soon as you can. Out of Berlin. Nico says you must and he’s right. Ask your American friends at Tempelhof to help you get away in one of their planes. Give them everything you have. All the jewellery in that box you’ve hidden . . . everything. I’m not going to betray the squadron leader, Dirk. Not even for you. And when the Russians realize I’m not going to help them, they’ll come and get you. You must go at once so that you’ll be safe. Far away. Go to America, if you can. You’ve always said how much you’d like to.’