Authors: John Anthony Miller
In Satan's Shadow (19 page)
York went to the Berlin Theater on Kantstrasse, planning to meet Erika Jaeger at the cemetery afterwards. He furtively went to the parking lot behind the building, finding only a few parked cars, their owners enjoying the show inside. He wandered to the garden wall and sat beside the linden tree, near the loose capstone, watching the parking lot and adjacent buildings. When satisfied no one was looking, he lifted the stone and looked in the cavity below.
He found only a message, no plans, and his face hardened as he read Faber’s note. York didn’t like him, and he had yet to even meet him. It was important to follow instructions. When you didn’t, you got killed. Maybe that’s how Kent got caught, Faber controlling him, instead of Kent controlling Faber. And maybe Faber led him time after time to the cemetery drop, which may have been compromised. York had to be cautious. Faber was dangerous.
York took a taxi to the cemetery, eyed the few visitors he passed as he entered, and waited on the bench for Erika Jaeger. Ten minutes later she arrived, sat next to him, and studied the landscape, looking at the cobblestone lanes, the birds, the people that wandered past. When satisfied it was safe, she spoke, but she continued staring straight ahead and didn’t look at York.
“I’m not a supporter of the Nazis,” she said quietly. “And I never have been.”
“Good,” York said, easing the tension. “We have something in common.”
“But I never considered betraying my country,” she added.
He wasn’t sure what direction she was taking. Her statement had an ominous tone, almost a threat or warning. He gazed cautiously around the cemetery, looking for anyone suspicious: Gestapo, policeman, informants. After a minute had passed, and he was satisfied it was safe, he turned to face her.
She wasn’t looking at him. She looked at the grass, and a few roses that bloomed at the edge of the shrubs. Then she looked towards the entrance.
Could she be stalling for time? Maybe they were under surveillance. Was the Gestapo about to rush forward and arrest him?
An awkward silence ensued. He watched her shuffling uncomfortably on the bench and decided to proceed. They seemed safe, alone and unnoticed. He would probe her weakness, his belief she was hiding someone in her home.
“You could help other people with the money I give you,” he said, trying to convince her. He leaned towards her, as if sharing a secret. “If there was someone in trouble that you cared about.”
She turned away, expressionless, and studied the lane. No one was coming. The bench was tucked away between shrubs, not somewhere you would go unless you knew it was there.
“The Nazis do terrible things,” she said, her face twisting with hatred. “I’ve seen it. I’ve watched it for ten years.”
He didn’t reply, but let her think. He waited, watching her closely, compassion washing his face. A moment passed before she continued.
“I lost my husband in the war,” she said quietly. “He was a gentle man, loving and considerate, my constant companion. A talented craftsman, an artist, he wasn’t a fighter; he never should have carried a gun. Now my life will always be empty. A piece of my heart is missing that can’t be replaced.”
Her eyes misted and she looked away, sighing. She wiped them with a fingertip, dabbing at tears, before turning to face him, her expression determined. “If I can help, I will. But I want something in return.”
He avoided asking, although he suspected he knew what it was. “What information do you have for me?”
She paused, knowing she couldn’t retrace her steps once the walk was started. “I work in the logistics office of the War Ministry. Usually I route supplies, sometimes, weapons. It’s normally routine, not very exciting, and somewhat predicable. At least until the last few weeks.”
“What’s changed?” York asked.
“There has been a redeployment of troops from the Russian city of Kursk. The summer offensive has been halted.”
“Where are the troops being sent?”
“To Italy, to stem the Allied offensive.”
York listened as she spoke, softly and sincerely, wanting to change the world but not knowing how. She had confirmed what Amanda overheard at the party. Now he had to get the information to Max.
He reached in his pocket and withdrew some Reichsmarks. It was more than she deserved, almost double what he had paid Faber. But he knew she needed it. She had an elderly mother to care for. And whoever else she was hiding.
Her eyes widened when she saw the money. It was more than she expected.
York could tell she felt guilty, profiting from the misery of others. She probably wondered how many men would die because of the information she provided. Just like her husband had. But she thought she was doing the right thing.
“Thank you,” she said. “I need the money badly.” She put it in her purse, scanning the area as she did so.
“May I ask you a few questions about those in the quartet?”
She was confused, not seeing any connection, but shrugged and agreed anyway. “Of course.”
“How would you describe Amanda Hamilton?”
Jaeger thought for a moment. “She’s caring, a good person, a close friend, a fabulous violinist, and a great photographer.” She looked up, her eyes on York. “And she’s very lonely.”
York studied her for a moment, hiding a smile. He would have used the same description. For a moment he wondered if he was becoming too attached to Amanda.
“How about Gerhard Faber?”
She crinkled her nose. “He can be arrogant. I don’t know him that well, so I suppose I shouldn’t say anything. He’s just different. But I can’t say why. I usually don’t bother with him.”
“Albert Kaiser?”
She smiled. “Father figure. He likes to talk. One story after another. Sometimes he reminds me of Father Christmas. He’s very protective of Amanda. But they have known each other for many years.”
“Captain Klein?”
She shrugged. “He spends most of his time with Albert. I think they’re neighbors. They served together in the last war. But Klein can be annoying, very nosy, intrusive, watches everything and everyone. But I guess that’s what he’s supposed to do. He pretends to be our manager, making arrangements and ensuring we’re on time. But his real role is to observe.”
“Kaiser was in the war with Klein?” he asked, finding the information disturbing.
“Klein said something once and Kaiser got mad. I never heard either mention it again.” She looked up, smiling faintly. “Is that any help?”
“Yes, actually it is. It confirms information I already had, but offers a bit more.”
“Do I get more money?”
He laughed. “No, not just yet. How about Manfred Richter?”
She frowned. “He can be charming and sincere, as if he would do anything for you. But he’s really dangerous, sly, and selfish. He has a dark side, seems to always be scheming. But it’s something you don’t find out about until months later.”
“Does he have a mistress?”
She hesitated. “I don’t want to answer that. Out of respect for Amanda.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, knowing she already had. “Is there something you want to ask me?”
She nodded, her eyes pleading for help, her lips afraid to mouth the words. “Can you get people out of Germany?”
He paused, pensive. “Possibly,” he said cautiously, not wanting to give her false hopes. “Where to?”
“Somewhere safe. I suppose Switzerland is easiest.”
“Or Sweden,” he said. He wondered how serious Max was. Would he really offer assistance?
He studied her face. Sadness consumed her eyes; compassion lived in her heart. He couldn’t refuse her. She was a good person, risking her life to protect others. It was probably a former neighbor or friend, probably a Jew.
“I’ll do the best I can,” he promised. “How many people are we trying to rescue?”
She looked away, uncomfortable. A moment passed before she found the courage to face him. “Eight,” she said quietly.
York’s eyes widened with surprise. “Are you serious?” he asked. “You have eight people crammed in an apartment?”
She was silent, her arms folded across her chest. She shrugged defiantly. “Maybe.”
He studied her closely, searching for clarification, seeking a hint of truth. “Eight people who may or may not be in your apartment,” he said, trying to ease the tension.
She stood, preparing to go. “No more information. Not until you agree to help me.”
“And get your friends out of Germany?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Think about it.”
He watched her walk to the exit, her demands now known. She didn’t look back.
York was impressed. She was a remarkable woman. A war widow with an elderly mother, she was risking her life to hide eight people. And even though she might have help from others, it was still an unbelievable effort. What he found absolutely amazing, was that she did it while performing for the Berlin String Quartet, practicing her violin several hours each day.
Once Erika Jaeger had gone, York walked towards the drop to see what Gerhard Faber might have left him. An elderly couple passed, arm in arm, still in love after many years together. York watched them walk down the lane, suddenly feeling an emptiness in his heart. He wondered if they realized how fortunate they were to have found each other. After watching them a moment more, he realized that they probably did.
He carefully surveyed the landscape and, when sure no one was watching, he moved to the tomb where the drop was, leaned against the fence, and removed the cap from the corner post. He expected to find the rest of the artillery shell drawings, and promise of delivery for rocket diagrams, as originally agreed.
Instead he found another note from Faber and two pages of blueprints, not four as anticipated. He studied the cemetery, peering through bushes and shrubs, past tombs and mausoleums, and made sure no one was watching. Then he translated the note.
PRICE JUST DOUBLED. TWO OF FOUR DRAWINGS DELIVERED. LEAVE MONEY FOR MORE.
York frowned. He was tiring of Gerhard Faber. But he wanted the plans for the rocket even more than the artillery shell. He weighed whether the weapons were as valuable as information he had gotten from Erika or Amanda, or even the gossip obtained from Albert Kaiser. He knew that it was.
He sighed, faced with a dilemma. He had given Jaeger more money than planned because he felt sorry for her. Now he had just enough to meet Faber’s original demand, which would only buy two more blueprints.
“Let’s see how badly he needs money,” York uttered aloud. He put the bills in the cavity formed by the hollow finial cap with a note.
REST OF MONEY AT OTHER DROP. LEAVE DRAWINGS THERE, WITH SAME FOR ROCKET
.
He folded the drawings and put them in his pocket, made sure the cap was secure, and walked out of the cemetery.
York took a taxi to Max’s boarding house, finding the Berlin traffic heavier than normal. He went to a rear entrance when he arrived, climbed the stairs, and tapped lightly on the door. After a few minutes, he tapped again. The door opened a crack, and Max peered out.
As soon as he saw York, he opened the door, glanced down the hallway in both directions, and led him inside. On a small table against the wall sat a few slices of pumpernickel bread, a block of sharp cheese and a knife. A bottle of red wine stood beside a half-filled glass. Max sat down and motioned for York to join him.
“Are you all right?” Max asked, surprised by the impromptu meeting.
“Yes, I’m sorry for the intrusion. But I had to talk to you right away.”
“Is anything wrong?”
York shook his head. “No, but I have a lot to discuss. And it’s important. I’ll show you.”
He took the drawings of the artillery shell from his pocket, showing Max the details, what else was expected, and about the potential rocket design. Then he described how Faber had acted.
Max frowned. “What disturbs me most is that he’s probably selling the same thing to the Russians. And I bet he’s making a nice living doing it.”
“I think he needs to be taught a lesson,” York said firmly.
Max shrugged. “Have some fun with him. I could care less.”
“I think I will.”
York gazed out the window, watching the traffic pass, a streetcar and bus, a few Volkswagons, bicycles moving along the curb. Pedestrians walked on the pavement past the trees that bordered the road, flowers in beds beside the curb. All were framed by Nazi flags hanging from street lamps and balconies.
“I also have valuable information for you,” he said quietly.
Max had been slicing a piece of cheese from the block. He put down the knife and looked at York with interest. “What is it?”
York explained Hitler’s decision to halt the offensive at Kursk so he could redeploy troops in Italy, and his belief that the Italian campaign was a diversion for the real assault, which would be in the Balkans. He gave Amanda’s version and source, and then Jaeger’s confirmation.
Max listened intently, his eyes trained on York. He rubbed his chin, thoughtful, then looked away. He motioned to York, offering bread, cheese, and wine, but still not speaking.
York broke the impasse. “Jaeger asked again if we can help get her friends out of Germany.”
Max took another sip of wine. “I told you we could. Especially if she continues to cooperate.”
“There’s just one wrinkle, I’m afraid,” York said.
“What is it?”
“She’s hiding eight people.”
Max glanced at him, eyebrows arched, eyes wide. “A resourceful woman,” he said. “I think we’ve been underestimating her. She must have them hidden around the city, maybe with friends or relatives.”
“What should I tell her?”
“Keep promising. We’ll get them out eventually. But up the ante a bit. Demand more information.”
“Of course,” York said, his heart sinking. He thought of Erika Jaeger’s face, so hopeful, so trusting. She needed his help desperately. And she believed him when he said he could provide it.
Max wrapped the bread and cheese, put the cork back in the wine, and rose from his chair. “I have to find my radio operator and get a message to London,” he said. “Do you have anything else?”
York explained the efforts of Manfred Richter, and possibly Martin Bormann, to develop centers and escape routes around the world for Nazis fleeing Europe, ultimately to form the Fourth Reich.
Max was stunned. “That means some in the Nazi party have accepted defeat. They’re either planning their escape from Europe, bringing the war to new continents, or there is a growing opposition to Hitler and he’ll be overthrown by a group already postured for world domination. Either way, they could be planning a war on a far grander scale.”
“Which is unfathomable,” York said gravely.
“I don’t want to pass that along just yet,” Max said. “We need to confirm it. But halting the offensive in Russia has to be relayed immediately. Good work, old boy.”
York stood and started for the door.
“Did you get any information on Kaiser and Klein?”
York nodded. “A little. I haven’t asked Amanda yet, but Jaeger confirmed what we already knew.” He put his hand on the doorknob and paused, remembering. “Except for one thing,” he added.
Max, in a hurry to get to his radio operator, was right behind him. “What is it?”
“Kaiser and Klein served in the last war together.”
