‘Why not the moon?’ As Marietta struggled to load the lorry with empty milk churns, she felt depressed. Last night she had dreamed of Bill. It had been a poignant, fulfilling dream and so real that when she woke she had cried with longing.
‘Have faith, little one. If I tell you how we’re going to pull it off, will you do as I ask? Now listen . . .’
*
Frau Mira Alesh was in the garden pruning the roses. She was a tall woman with thick brown eyebrows, a round face with pleasant, regular features and laughing eyes that slanted down at the corners. In her blue woollen jersey and tweed skirt, she looked the perfect helpmate for a man at the top of his career. Her mother-in-law, Erica, was sitting on a garden bench, huddled in a fur coat, with her back turned. Marietta could see her blue-white hair and the blue of her thick stockings.
‘I’ve brought some flowers, Ma’am,’ Marietta said, trying to look brisk, as she walked towards the front door. ‘They’re heavy,’ she added as Frau Alesh held out her hands. Her mother-in-law followed, looking curious.
Mira opened the door and led Marietta into the house. ‘I wasn’t expecting . . .’ she began, reaching for the card.
‘You were Frau Erica Goldstein, weren’t you?’ Marietta asked, turning to the older woman. ‘I’m a member of the Czech Resistance. I came to warn you . . . please listen to me . . . you’re in danger.’
Mira stood up. She looked both angry and bewildered. ‘This is ridiculous. Our name is Alesh. Get out . . . I’m going to call the police.’
‘Wait a minute.’ Mira’s mother-in-law looked pale, but from her fierce eyes and calm manner, Marietta guessed she was a fighter. ‘Just tell me why you’re here and be quick. Mira, please . . . let’s listen to her.’
Marietta began to breathe easier as she turned to Mira. ‘One of our contacts in the Gestapo informed us that your mother-in-law, Frau Erica Alesh, and her family, including your children, are scheduled for resettlement. Perhaps you didn’t know that your husband’s family were Jewish. They changed their name when Ludvik was a boy.’
‘Ludvik . . . a Jew? I don’t believe you.’ Clearly, she did, for she suddenly crumpled on to a chair.
Erica was as white as a sheet. ‘How did they find out . . .?’
‘Counter checking records in Rumania, Ma’am. You were able to pay for a false entry in Prague parish records registering your birth, but your real records are in the synagogue in your birthplace, Rumania, once Transylvania. Recently the Germans double-checked the records. Your son is on the list, too.’
‘Mira,’ Erica began with a deep sigh. ‘I’m sorry.’
*
It took ten days for Marie to finalise her plans. A time of tension, for it seemed that Mira was verging on a breakdown. Klaus Kolar had been given the task of following her to keep an eye on her, while also giving her the impression that the Gestapo were on her trail. He reported that she had burst into tears at a restaurant on the second day. On the third day, she had raced to her children’s school and brought them home.
Erica was of sterner material. She calmly went about her normal routine as if nothing had happened.
‘So what’s the plan?’ Marietta plagued Jan. ‘What are you doing about the Professor?’
‘All I can tell you is that Herr Professor is going to collapse at work. He will complain of overwork and strain. The mine’s medical staff will do what they have always done and prescribe a week at one of the Nazi’s rest camps. Alesh will choose Franzenbad, near Cheb, the Nazis’ favourite spa.
‘You will concentrate on the rest of the family. We have contacted Pastor Perwe. A member of his chain will take over once you get them over the hills into Austria. Use the route you yourself took. Do you need my help?’
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. If only she had Jan’s attitude to life and war, she thought later. It was midnight. Jan had disappeared via the river and Marietta knew that she might not see him for days. ‘You win some, you lose some,’ was his creed. For her, failure was inconceivable. She had a sacred trust to get this family to safety. She sat up all night worrying about her mission.
*
Hugo had been recalled to Berlin for a meeting at Gestapo headquarters, but his plane was delayed and it was nearly midnight when he was shown into an enormous, oak-panelled room with a highly-polished boardroom table and a well-stocked bar beyond. Several high-ranking SS officers were gathered around the table, and at the end of it sat Heinrich Himmler.
Hugo feared Himmler more than any other man, including the Führer. For years, Himmler had been worming himself up the ladder until he was head of the Gestapo and the SS. He personally controlled the Death’s Head units that ran the concentration camps. Recently, he had been appointed Military Commander-in-Chief of the Army Reserve. Himmler had reached the pinnacle of Nazi power and Hugo knew that he would ruthlessly crush anyone who opposed him. He never underestimated him.
‘Heil Hitler,’ Hugo said, giving the Nazi salute.
‘Welcome, von Hesse, welcome,’ Himmler said in his soft, insidious voice. ‘Glad you arrived at last. Travelling is becoming hazardous . . .’ his voice tailed off as someone handed Hugo a glass of brandy and introduced him to the other officers.
‘Whatever is discussed here will not be mentioned again,’ Himmler said. ‘So we can all feel at ease . . .’ he fiddled with his glass, his gaze fixed on his small, white hands.
‘We called you here, von Hesse, because we have had disquieting news. General Wolf von Doerr, of the Abwehr,’ he nodded towards a dour faced man to his right, ‘has drawn our attention to some serious indiscretions.’
Hugo watched the General curiously. He knew how much Himmler feared and despised the Abwehr. This organisation, which had always been in charge of German military intelligence, frequently came into conflict with the Gestapo’s activities. The two organisations often ran parallel, and both had spies overseas. As a military, rather than a Nazi Party organisation, the Abwehr attracted non-Nazis and opponents of the regime. Hugo hoped his face was not showing the anxiety he felt.
‘Before we get to this extraordinary lapse in security, I want to hear your opinion on the war, General von Hesse. Can Germany win the war without the V-3? What do you think?’
Another shiver of apprehension ran down Hugo’s spine. Any talk of losing the war was labelled defeatist, even treasonable and severely punished. Himmler seemed to sense his concern.
‘Feel free to talk confidentially, but truthfully,’ he added.
Hugo was a fast thinker. He decided to speak in guarded, general terms. He stood up slowly.
‘I’m sure we all understand the curious phenomenon of war which always puts the aggressor nation at an advantage,’ he said. ‘It is their ability to mass-produce the most modern of armaments in advance. For instance, a tank has nearly 7,000 assemblies which are made from about 40,000 parts. To build a prototype tank takes highly skilled workmen one to two years. Add another year to get the assembly line in operation. But once the tank is in production, output can leap to thousands a month, but it takes three years to do this. So winning a war is mainly to do with the production of superior arms.
‘That explains why there’s an overwhelming advantage to the aggressor. Only that country knows when the first blow will be struck. It’s up to this nation to win quickly, within three years, before his advantage lapses.’
Hugo glanced round the table and noticed how startled everyone looked. He decided to soft-talk them. ‘We have to make our own decision as to whether the German soldier’s natural superiority in bravery and intelligence will withstand the coming massive technological advantage the Allies now have.’
He sat down abruptly. Had he said too much? He sensed their antipathy. His mouth was dry as he reached for his brandy.
‘And with the V-3?’ Himmler asked, his eyes glinting dangerously.
‘Ah yes.’ Hugo stood up again. This time he was on strong ground. ‘The V-3 will win the war without any doubt. Every weapon we know of becomes o
utdated in the face of nuclear power. This energy is so far beyond anything we’ve seen, it’s hard to grasp. We would only need to drop two or three such bombs to call a halt to the war.’
‘And how long will it be before we can use this new weapon?’
‘Two years or more for a prototype . . . The missiles are ahead of the bombs. We’re working round the clock. Two years might be optimistic, but that’s my private target.’
Hugo took a deep breath. He had acquitted himself well. They could draw their own obvious conclusions from the picture he had painted.
‘An excellent answer, von Hesse.’
Hugo beamed, and strained forward to hear what Himmler was saying.
‘Now we come to the question of security at Richard’s Mine. Well, von Doerr, let’s have your report.’ Himmler turned to the Abwehr general.
‘It’s quite straightforward,’ von Doerr said. ‘I received this from my London contact.’
Hugo almost gasped as he listened to von Doerr reading from a photographed paper of the derailed train and the two slave workers who had been freed by the Resistance. He had been so sure no one had known but his immediate staff.
The General reported that a Czech agent, known as Edelweiss, who had been operating in and around Prague for the past six months, had successfully derailed a train taking slave workers to the extermination camps in Poland. The slaves had been debriefed and, consequently, the Allies knew exactly where the Hitler’s secret V-3 atomic missile was being developed and built.
Ashen-faced, Hugo glanced around the table. He hoped Himmler hadn’t seen how his hand was shaking.
‘Did you know about this matter of the escaped slave-workers?’
‘Yes,’ Hugo said. ‘My orders were that the slaves should be executed on-site. I was disobeyed.’
‘You must take the necessary action,’ Himmler said. ‘Identify and arrest that Edelweiss agent without delay. I’m not going to relieve you of your duties at this moment, mainly because you know more about security of the mine than any other man available. Allied agents will try to enter the plant, you can be sure of that, this is not the time to put the mine in the charge of a new man.’ Himmler stared at Hugo coldly. ‘Of all the losses Germany has sustained this year, I count this as the worst.’
‘I agree,’ Hugo said hoarsely. ‘At the same time, you must know that Richard’s Mine is impregnable.’ He cleared his throat and hung on to his composure. ‘No bomb can penetrate to the research station. The sheer slopes of the mountain make any assault impossible. There are only two entrances, from the small airfield on the roof of the mine, which is heavily guarded, or by underground railway from Theresienstadt concentration camp, which, of course, is out of the question. No one can get in or out of the camp unchallenged. We have hundreds of guards there.’
Hugo turned to von Doerr. ‘How did this information come to you?’
‘I’m not at liberty to reveal my sources,’ von Doerr snarled.
‘So there we have it,’ Himmler said. ‘A dangerous situation. You must ensure the mine is as impregnable as you say. Your career and the Fatherland’s security depend upon this. For the time being you may go.’
Scrambling hastily to his feet, Hugo saluted and left. He would arrest Alesh as soon as he reached Prague, he decided. He wondered which of his SS agents were also in the pay of the Abwehr.
*
Hugo returned directly to Prague and his office in Hradcany Castle, but he had not had time to call a meeting on the mine’s security before the news came that Professor Alesh and two SS agents assigned to guard the scientist had gone missing on their way to the spa. There was mist in the mountains and presumably they had wandered off the usual route, but troops were combing the forest.
Half an hour later, the bodies of the two guards were discovered. There was no sign of Professor Alesh.
In pent-up fury Hugo paced his office, longing to get his hands on the terrorists responsible for this outrage, but, other than calling out an entire SS division to guard the border areas and to comb the surrounding forests, which he had done, there wasn’t much else he could do, but wait . . . and the waiting was killing him.
With sudden inspiration, Hugo called the head of Richard’s Mine security. The Alesh family, consisting of Ludwig’s wife, mother and two sons, had left that morning to join their father for a week at the spa, he was told, but they had not arrived. Hugo’s mouth was dry with fright as he put out a description of the Alesh family to all military and railway personnel in Bohemia.
Hugo poured a drink with shaking hands and tossed it back. This had to be the work of Edelweiss. Somehow he must find and arrest him. Hugo suddenly realised that he was locked in mortal combat with a man he had never seen and would not even recognise. With his third drink, some semblance of calm sunk into his psyche. After all, he had the resources of the Third Reich at his disposal, while Edelweiss had only his wits and a few half-starved peasants to rely on.
*
The train was due to leave in half an hour and so far the Alesh family had not arrived. Marietta tried to keep calm as she paced the platform. She was dressed in peasant black, a scarf tied over her head, her boots soiled by the earth. She glanced at her watch.
A bustle of movement made her turn towards the barrier. The Alesh family hurried on to the platform. Marietta stared in dismay. The two women looked as if they were going to a funeral, while the boys, eleven and thirteen, hung around their mother, demanding and spoiled, wearing their Hitler Youth uniforms and gazing contemptuously at everyone who passed.
The family went into the station restaurant and Marietta positioned herself so that she could watch the restaurant entrance as well as the platform. As the train pulled in they emerged from the restaurant and struggling with their luggage, they settled themselves in an empty compartment.
Marietta grabbed her bag and boarded the train. As it started to move, she hurried along the corridor and joined the Aleshes in their compartment. She bent forward and spoke softly. ‘Frau Alesh, it’s time to take the boys into your confidence. Please tell them what is happening.’
Mira looked as if she would rather die. Tears glistened in her eyes.
‘Must we?’ Erica asked.
Marietta nodded. ‘The boys must be ready to obey orders implicitly. We might run into problems. We’d have to act quickly.’ Marietta turned to the eldest boy. ‘Karl, thirteen is old enough to act like a man. You must look after your mother and your grandmother.’
‘Who are you? I don’t need to listen to you.’ With pouting lips and sullen eyes, the boy turned his back and kicked his heels against the seat.
Mira closed her eyes and leaned back against the upholstered seat. ‘We are forced to leave Czechoslovakia,’ she said in a small, tired voice. ‘Your father and grandmother . . .’ She broke off and seemed to come to a decision. ‘Your father and I are Jews and the Nazis have found out. We could be killed if they catch us. At the very least, we would be put into a camp. Our house would be taken away. Jews cannot own houses. I’m sure you know that . . .’
Marietta decided to leave the family on their own while Mira attempted to explain their new position. When she returned to the compartment half an hour later, the boys were subdued, with expressions of shock and fear in their eyes.
At Pilsen they left the train and walked to another platform, where they sat in a tense, unhappy row.
They waited for hours. Eventually a guard passed by and told them the train had been diverted. Marietta felt heavy with dread. It was only a matter of time before a routine check ruined their plans.
When the next train arrived four hours later they were all exhausted from the tension of waiting. The family found a compartment and huddled in their seats. Marietta dug in her bag and pulled out some bread and sausage which she sliced, and handed to the boys, but they declined haughtily.
‘You won’t get another chance to eat for hours,’ she said.
Kurt gave in, but Karl looked out of the window as if ther
e was a foul smell under his nose. Mira was too upset to notice the boys’ behaviour. She stood up abruptly. ‘I’ll be back soon,’ she said, looking scared. When she returned there was a sheen of perspiration on her upper lip and her hair was damp at her temples.
It was 10 p.m. when the ticket inspector flung open their carriage door. His friendly manner was abruptly terminated when he gazed at the small party. Suddenly his eyes became wary, he hesitated, then he hurried off. Marietta’s heart sank. It was lucky that the guard seemed a simpleton. The Gestapo would be waiting for them at Strakonice. Or perhaps they would stop the train.
The next hour dragged slowly and, on the edge of the Boubin Forest, the train halted at a level crossing. Marietta looked out of the window anxiously. They were only yards from the sheltering forest. There were no waiting guards. They wouldn’t get a better chance. ‘Quickly . . . Jump . . . Run for the trees . . . Don’t make a sound.’ She pushed the boys out. ‘Jump, Mira.’ She took hold of Erica’s arm and hustled her off the train. ‘Faster,’ she whispered. ‘Try to run.’
They reached the trees as the train lurched forward. Thank God . . . But how long did they have? Half an hour at the most, and she had an old woman to look after. Soon, the soldiers would come with their guns and their dogs. Blanking her mind to her fears, she pushed the tired family into single file and hurried them deeper into the forest.
Chapter Sixty-One
The night express to Vienna was about to leave Prague station. The engine-driver, a short, stocky man with a shock of white hair and a pronounced limp, was shouting at the stoker. The stoker was trying his best. His dyed black hair was singed, his hands were blistered, and he could not see without his glasses.
‘I’ll help you when we’re out of here,’ Jan told him. ‘Meantime stoke faster or we’ll get nowhere.’
‘I’m trying,’ the stoker said. ‘I hope you’ve found an easier route for Mira. She’s not fond of hard work, you know.’
A hundred miles away, Mira was crying from exhaustion and fear. They had walked for five nerve-racking hours through the forest. At last they came in sight of Herr Zweig’s sawmill. The old man, who had been watching out for them, hurried to meet them. ‘I’ve been praying for you. Come inside. When I saw the troops brought into Strakonice I thought you were in trouble. Then they began to search the forests around the track, so I came straight home. I guessed you’d come here. Luckily for you the train stopped several times and they don’t know where you got off. Right now they’re searching further west so we’ve got a bit of time.’
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