Hitler's Secret (14 page)

Otto hadn’t moved a millimeter or a muscle for the last ten minutes. The brown shoes hadn’t moved, either, as the man continued to turn the newspaper pages on top of the table. Then, just as Otto was beginning to despair, the phone rang again, the shrill bell making his heart skip. The man hurried from the dining room to answer it. Otto got ready to spring out and race for the door. Then a tiny hand lifted the edge of the cloth, raising it up a little.

A baby girl, perhaps two years old, with blonde curly hair and chubby cheeks, stared curiously at Otto. He put his finger to his lips.

“
Mutti!
” the girl cried. She had a loud voice for such a small person.

Otto prepared himself for the worst. His pack was at the
station, and without a knife or his pistol the situation would be hopeless.

“What are you doing,
Liebchen
?” A woman’s shoes appeared by the baby.

“Mutti …” The baby let go of the cloth and took a step towards Otto.

“No, no, not under there.” The mother bent down and scooped her baby up.

“That was the office. Something big has come up.” The man had come back. “All personnel have been ordered to report immediately.”

“But, Heinz, it’s your day off.”

“It’s from the top, Heydrich himself. Get me a clean shirt and see if my boots are polished. Come on, Helga, hurry up.”

Otto shook his head. Of all the people who could have moved into his house, it had to be a Gestapo officer.

The three of them left the room, and Otto heard them walking down the corridor to his parents’ bedroom. This was his chance. He took a firm grip of his boots and moved. In a couple of steps he was by the front door. They were talking in the bedroom.

Otto eased open the door and slipped out into the corridor, sliding on the linoleum in his socks. He left the front door ajar, not wanting to risk the sound that closing it would make. He pulled on his boots, lacing them as fast as he could. It only took a dozen seconds.

“Mutti!”

Otto looked up. The baby was standing on the threshold of the open front door, looking right at him. Then the mother appeared, and her mouth dropped open with shock.

“Heinz!” she shrieked.

Otto didn’t wait to see Heinz. He sprinted to the stairs and flew down, taking the steps three at a time. As he hit the first landing, the woman’s second shriek pierced the stairwell and he lost his footing on the polished stone. He fell headlong, rolling over and over until the next landing broke his fall, and lay there, momentarily stunned. Then the man’s head appeared at the top of the stairs, staring down. Fear surged inside Otto. He pulled himself up and starting running down the steps again, ignoring the pain in his ankle.

“Hey, you,
halt
!”

Otto didn’t look back, though he heard the man’s boots clattering on the steps above him. Then he was in the entrance hall, his head down, praying no one was coming in or out at that moment.

Luck was against him. A big man in gray overalls was standing by the front door, talking to the postman. It was Günter, the building’s caretaker, a simple man who had been gassed in the Great War.

“
Halt!
” The other man’s voice echoed down the stairs.

Günter looked back from the doorway towards Otto. He was bound to recognize him. They used to swap cigarette
cards. But Otto couldn’t take the chance that Günter would be kind to him now. There was only one course open to him. He swerved away from the front door, and into Günter’s apartment, throwing the bolt on the door.

Otto saw immediately that nothing had changed in the sparsely furnished two-room studio, apart from the inevitable addition of the Führer’s portrait on the wall. He wrenched open the small window above the washbasin and wriggled through. Then he was in the alleyway by the side of the building, dashing towards Jaegerstrasse at the front. At the end of it, he turned left into Fürstenstrasse.

Fortunately the streets were packed with morning shoppers and service personnel on leave. Otto ducked between them, trying to blend in. Surely the man wouldn’t pursue him this far?

Unfortunately Heinz was Gestapo and therefore not the type to give up. Half-dressed in his uniform, black trousers and boots and a collarless white shirt, he was running straight after Otto.

Otto sprinted into Ludwigstrasse. A passing omnibus and car blasted their horns at him. At the end of the street he glanced back again. The man had no intention of losing him and was in fact gaining. Otto ran into Maffeistrasse and then Promenadeplatz. But any hopes of losing the man in the wider boulevard were dashed by the presence of soldiers sitting outside the beer halls, drinking great mugs of
beer. Otto would stick out a mile. His only option was to duck into one of the alleys by the side of a beer hall and hide behind the wooden beer crates and barrels. After running past the first two halls, he found a suitable alleyway and ducked in.

He reached the end where all the spent bottles and barrels were kept, and managed to wedge himself in out of sight. He crouched there, desperately trying to catch his breath, his ankle on fire. He looked at his watch. He was supposed to be meeting Leni and Angelika at the station right now.

Then came the sound of splintering wood and breaking glass. Otto peeped out from his hiding hole. The man was walking slowly down the alley, pulling over the wooden crates, shattering the bottles. Otto could smell the sweet malted aroma of the dregs.

“I think it would be best for you, young man, if you were to give yourself up now, with no further struggle.”

The voice was cold and official now, and all the more menacing for that.

Otto cursed the fact once again that his weapons were at the station. His hands shaking, he gently withdrew an empty bottle from a crate and grasped it firmly around its neck. Then he stood up and stepped out from his hiding place.

The man was twenty feet from him, his feet planted wide.

“I am an inspector with the Gestapo, and you, young man, are under arrest.”

Sweat was pouring down Otto’s face. He slammed the end of the bottle again the brick wall, leaving a jagged shard in his hand.

The Gestapo officer shook his head. “You do realize that your life is now over.”

Otto realized it only too well. “Stay back!” he said.

“I’ve had enough of this.” The man strode towards him. Otto waited until he was almost with an arm’s grasp of him, then sidestepped to the right and slashed the broken bottle at the man’s left side.

“You little — !” The man glanced with fury at his shirtsleeve, sliced open below the elbow, blood spreading through the white cotton.

Otto jabbed again, but this time he was not so lucky. The man caught Otto’s wrist in his hand and slammed his hand against a crate.
Bang
,
bang
,
bang
. The bottle dropped from Otto’s hand. The man transferred his fist to the neck of Otto’s shirt, grasping it tight so he could lift Otto off the ground.

“We shall make a very special example of you,” he said, his lip curling.

Then Otto saw a blur of brown behind the man, heard the sickening thud of the impact, and saw a beer bottle exploding from the back of the man’s head. The man’s eyes went glassy and he let go of Otto. He took a step back and dropped to his knees, before crumpling to the ground.

Leni was standing directly behind him, still holding the neck of the bottle in her hand. He stared at her incredulously.

“How … ?”

“We were in a taxi, on our way to the station, we saw you running down the street …” Leni struggled to get the words out. Otto nodded, his heart still hammering. He was finding it hard to catch his breath.

Angelika was a few feet behind her, her eyes wide.

Otto waved and smiled weakly. “It’s all right, Angelika. He was a bad man, that’s all.”

Angelika walked slowly forward and stared down at him. Otto couldn’t tell what she was thinking, whether she was frightened or upset. She seemed almost detached.

“Is he dead?” she asked.

Otto shook his head. “No, no. He’ll be fine.”

“Are you all right?” she said.

“I’m fine, too. Don’t worry.” He dragged himself to his feet.

“I don’t like this place,” she said.

“Me neither,” said Otto. “Let’s go.” He took her hand. It felt hot and clammy.

He wanted to look at Leni, but right now he felt he couldn’t meet her eye.

They had just minutes to retrieve their packs. They clambered aboard the train as the platform guard blew his whistle and the train pulled out of the station. They managed to find a six-seater compartment to themselves and within five minutes of departure the train guard had come and punched their tickets. Now they could sit back and relax — at least for the next hour. Not that Leni was in the mood to do any such thing. She sat opposite Otto, glaring at him.

“How many more times do you want me to apologize?” Otto muttered. They’d pulled the blinds down on the side windows and door, hoping this might deter anyone from joining them in the compartment.

“A few more times,” Leni said acidly.

“All right, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It was just … we were there in Munich and I thought —”

“No, Otto, you didn’t think. You just chose to please yourself, regardless of the risks.” Leni knew he had been up to something, but she’d never have believed he could have done something so stupid and dangerous.

“What’s Otto done wrong, Leni?” Angelika was sucking on a candy.

“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” said Leni.

Angelika looked confused. “Then why are you cross with him?”

“All right, he did something silly, a bit like you leaving me in the museum.”

“Oh,” said Angelika. She looked at Otto. “So we’re both in trouble.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Otto.

“Don’t change the subject,” countered Leni.

“Who’s changing the subject? What happened at the museum, Leni?”

“All right, Angelika went missing for a little bit, but it was fine. So don’t even try to equate that with what you did.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Otto folded his arms and looked out the window.

The train had got up a good head of steam and was well out of the suburbs of the city. It clattered along, past fields filled with ripening corn, orchards, and small-holdings just beginning to fill up with the season’s bean, tomato, pepper, and zucchini plants. Farther on were fields of hops and vineyards
beginning to leaf. Only the gray-and-green military trucks towing field guns in long convoys on the dusty roads spoiled the rural landscape.

Angelika rested her head against Leni’s shoulder, and closed her eyes. They’d been on their feet since the early hours with just a few snatched minutes of sleep on the freight train.

“Well, what happened?” Otto arched his eyebrows in Angelika’s direction.

“That wasn’t my fault,” said Leni defensively.

“If you say so.”

“Oh, let’s just drop the whole thing,” said Leni, feeling there was nothing more to be gained.

“Fine by me,” said Otto.

The three of them sat in silence for a while, the heat building. Leni felt Angelika gradually relax against her and her head become heavier on her shoulder. When she was sure that the girl was asleep, she whispered, “You made us come to Munich just so you could see if your family was still there.”

Otto shook his head. “Of course not. Going to Munich was the right thing to do.”

She said nothing, deciding to let him stew. She knew she was right.

“If it had been in Vienna, wouldn’t you have wanted to visit your home?” he said eventually.

“I knew it,” said Leni quietly.

“Well, wouldn’t you? I bet you would.”

“Don’t you dare say that to me. I wouldn’t take any risks that would endanger my life or yours. And you should do the same. How else can we trust each other?”

Otto’s face was flushed, his forehead beaded with sweat. Leni suddenly realized he was on the verge of tears.

“You’re right, Leni, it was stupid, it was selfish, and it was pointless. They’re gone, they’re never coming back, and I’m never going to —” His voice broke and he stopped.

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” Leni said, feeling terrible. She hadn’t meant to upset him like this.

Otto shook his head. His mouth was set. “I promise it won’t happen again,” he said, struggling to control his voice.

Leni wanted to reach over and take his hand, but she didn’t want to disturb Angelika. “I know, I know,” she said.

Otto blew out his cheeks and stared out the window. Leni decided to change the subject as quickly as possible.

“I haven’t told you why Angelika ran away.”

“Why did she?” Otto looked back at her.

“She saw this house on the way to the museum and then went back to look at it.”

“What kind of house?”

“Just a building, but it was covered in swastikas and banners.”

“What street was it on?”

“Prinzregentenstrasse.”

“Was it an office building? The Gestapo headquarters are on Prinzregentenstrasse.” Otto was looking interested now.

“No, it looked like an apartment building.”

Otto’s eyes widened. “Then it’s Hitler’s personal residence in Munich. That’s the only other place of importance on that street.”

Leni felt her heart thump. “She said she’d been inside, when she was very little, at Christmastime.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Why would she lie?”

The two of them sat quietly for a moment.

“Who is she?” Leni asked at length.

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. Our job is to get her out of here in one piece as quickly as possible, not to start being detectives.”

“But you must be curious.”

“No. Curiosity is bad for you,” he said, but Leni could see he was.

The door to the compartment slid open. A middle-aged woman in a dark wool suit stood in the doorway.

“Is anyone sitting there?” She pointed with her umbrella to the empty seat beside Leni.

“No, it’s free,” said Otto, standing like a well-brought-up young man. “May I help you with that?”

“No, thank you, I am perfectly capable.” The woman lifted
a small leather valise onto the rack above the seat and sat down next to Leni.

Otto and Leni looked at each other. Around the woman’s neck on a piece of black ribbon was a Mother’s Medal. A small blue-and-white enamel cross with the swastika in the middle, it was awarded to mothers on a special day in May. But more important, as far as Otto and Leni were concerned, she was wearing a dark blue cuff on her left sleeve. It bore the title
Reichsfrauenschaft
, identifying the woman as a national staff member of the Nazi Party. They were sharing the compartment with a professional busybody.

The woman settled in for a minute or two, then slowly cast her eyes over Otto, Leni, and the still-sleeping Angelika.

“So tell me,” she began. “What are three children doing all alone on a train?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Don’t tell me … you’re running away from home.” And she smiled at them conspiratorially.