London Dawn (3 page)

“Half an hour. We cannot take the risk they may come earlier.”

“This is mad. You can’t come raging in here and demand we load our children into a car with you. Why should we trust you? You betrayed us once.”

“I saved Albrecht’s life. He would have died in that house with the others.”

“You’re SS.”

“It’s just as well I am. Otherwise I would have no idea of the movements of the police. If you don’t trust me, you will die here just as Albrecht would have died in that house with the Brotherhood of the Oak. Last time I used a gun on Albrecht to work my will. If you force my hand I will do so again.” He patted the pocket of his trench coat. “Get your husband. Get your children. Get what you need and get in the car.”

Catherine started up the staircase, her face whitening. She turned her head. “You can say what you want about the Gestapo. It’s you I don’t trust.”

“I’m fine with that so long as we drive away from here at ten o’clock.”

“You could have been followed.”

“I wasn’t followed.”

“They could be watching you.”

“Then we’ll all die together. Will you trust me if that happens?”

Albrecht stood at the head of the staircase. “What are you doing here?”

“He says the Gestapo are going to arrest us,” said Catherine.

“Arrest us? Because of my lectures?”

The baron looked up at him. “Your lectures. Your protests against the firing of Jewish professors. Your refusal to join the Nazi Party. Most of all, your books. Oh, yes—they know you are the author of those anonymous books and pamphlets popping up all over Germany.”

“How do they know that?”

“The SS found the men who do your printing last night. Smashed the presses. Shot them in the street.”

Albrecht started to say something and stopped.

“Get what you need, Albrecht.” The baron’s voice was quiet and flat. “Leave what is superfluous. We have twenty-five minutes left.”

Two days later

Ashton Park

Tavy received a telegram at the door and took it to Lord and Lady Preston, who were having tea in the library.

“Where is it from, William?” Lady Preston asked her husband. “Africa?”

“No, it’s not from Africa. It’s from Germany.”

“What is it? Is it Catherine? Is everything all right?”

“The telegram is not from Catherine. It’s from the baron.”

“The baron! Why on earth would he write us? He knows how we feel about him!”

LORD PRESTON

YOUR DAUGHTER CATHERINE IS SAFE. SO ARE HER CHILDREN. SO IS HER HUSBAND ALBRECHT. YOU WILL NOT HEAR FROM THEM IN A VERY LONG TIME. BUT THEY ARE NOT PRISONERS AND THEY HAVE NOT BEEN HARMED.

THE BARON

As Lord Preston was reading the telegram to his wife in England, small pieces of chocolate were being handed to Sean and Angelika in a cold, dark cellar in Germany.

“Happy birthday, my son,” whispered Albrecht. “I had this in my briefcase. You are eleven today. Blessings.”

Sean took the chocolate but didn’t eat it. “Thank you, Father.”

Mimicking the mood and actions of her big brother, Angelika clutched her square of chocolate but didn’t smile or put it in her mouth.

“Go ahead,” urged Albrecht. “It’s Swiss.”

“You said we were going there.” Sean spoke without emotion. “How long will it take?”

“We will stay at this house today. Tonight we will move again. And the night after that. Never longer than a day in each house. But each house brings us closer to the Swiss border.”

“So we are going to the chalet in Pura?”

“
Ja
.”

“And both of you are staying with us?”

Albrecht put his arm around Catherine. “Your mother and I will be with you. Wherever we go, we go as a family.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“What if the police find us?”

“The baron has very good friends. They will not betray us.”

“It’s because of your writing, isn’t it, Papa?” Again, no tone of accusation, just a question that was a statement of fact.

“Sean, it is because the Nazis are what they are.”

Sean put the chocolate in a pocket in his shirt. “I will eat it once we’ve crossed the border.”

“Very well.”

“Me too.” Angelika placed hers in a small red leather purse she carried with her everywhere.

“Make sure it doesn’t melt,” said Catherine. “You wouldn’t want it to melt in a shirt pocket or purse, would you? Such a waste. And such a mess.”

Sean finally smiled a very small smile. “I’ll be careful.”

“We’ll all be careful.” Albrecht put a hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Now each of us must take a nap. We didn’t get a great deal of sleep last night, and tonight will be no different.”

“How many nights will it be, Father?” asked Sean. “Ten or twelve?”

“I don’t know. That sounds right, but we’re still a good ways from the border.”

“But Switzerland is not that far.”

Albrecht nodded. “No, not so far from Tubingen. But we must move slowly and carefully because the SS and Gestapo will be hunting us. They’re aware we have a home in Switzerland. The border crossings will be closely watched.”

“What if we can’t get into Switzerland?”

“We’re just as near to France as we are to Switzerland. If we cannot get to the chalet safely we will cross over into Alsace-Lorraine and make our way to the English Channel.”

Catherine smiled. “Then you will see all your cousins, Sean. And Grandmother and Grandfather Danforth too.”

“I would like that.” Sean’s eyes were large in the darkness of the cellar. “But I will miss Grandfather Hartmann. And Grandmother Hartmann as well.”

“Of course you will.” Catherine smoothed back her son’s hair from his forehead. “But the Nazis will not be in power forever. The German people will come to their senses and reject them. That will be the time to see Grandmother and Grandfather Hartmann again.”

“How soon?” asked Angelika.

“A year. Or two. No more.”

“I’ll be a big girl then.”

“
Ja
. But not so big Grandfather and Grandmother Hartmann can’t fuss over you and give you dolls and baskets of sweets.”

A smile, bright in the gloom, darted onto Angelika’s face.

“Now we need to nap.” Albrecht handed each of them a woolen blanket. “Night is not far off.”

“I’m hungry,” Angelika said.

“There will be food when you wake up,” promised Catherine, wrapping the blanket around the little girl’s shoulders. “Or you can eat your chocolate now.”

“I’m saving it for a special day.”

“All right, you save it for a special day. Meanwhile, after you have had your nap, there will be a bowl of noodle soup for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. The lady of the house told me so herself.”

June 5, 1934

The Parliament buildings, Westminster, London

“What’s bothering you? We must do our part to get things ready for the rally.”

“I’m well aware of that, Buchanan.” Edward glanced at the traffic moving up and down in front of the Parliament buildings. “I’ll be ready.”

“The rally at Olympia is in two days, Danforth. We intend to set London on its ear. Fill the Grand Hall. The British Union of Fascists is at its peak.”

“I said I’d be ready.”

Buchanan tapped the silver head of his cane against his leg. “It’s the matter of your sister, isn’t it? Lady Catherine? I thought the embassy was sorting that out.”

“The embassy has no idea where Catherine and her family are. They simply vanished without a trace.”

“Mightn’t they have fled? Sir Oswald asked you to write that Hartmann fellow and get him to stop penning those anti-Nazi books and pamphlets. They were infuriating fascists in Spain and Italy and England as well as Germany and Austria.”

“I wrote him. He never responded.” Edward looked up at the sky as drops of rain fell on the sidewalk. “They could have been abducted and shot.”

“Yes, well, there’s that.” Buchanan opened a black umbrella. “You’re not getting cold feet about the rally, are you? Sir Oswald counts on you creating quite a stir with your appearance. And your announcement.”

“I don’t have cold feet, Buchanan. But it will be a shock to my father and mother when their son stands on a platform with the leader of the British fascists. Not to mention I’ll be drummed out of the Conservative Party. I’d like to spare them all that with Catherine missing.”

“They’ll bear up. Especially once you’re a success. You have everything to gain by going public with your fascist beliefs. Yes, you’ll have to sit as an independent. But in the next election we’ll take a majority of the seats. The
Daily Mirror
and
Daily Mail
are on our side, and we have well over 50,000 supporters now. Remember how easily Herr Hitler got in and took over.”

“He was appointed chancellor. He never got in by popular vote. I wish we could appoint Sir Oswald like that, but that’s not the way a British democracy runs.”

“Well, we’ll change all that, won’t we? You always chafed at the slow and awkward movements of democracy, didn’t you? Look at Hitler. See what a strong man in power can get done and done swiftly? Why, Berlin has the Olympics in thirty-six, doesn’t it? All sorts of buildings are being erected at an absolutely feverish pace. You really must pop over to Berlin with the lot of us next time and see for yourself. That’s what we want for the British Empire.”

Edward nodded. “I believe a strong man at the top would be for the best.” He continued to look out over the traffic, avoiding eye contact with Buchanan. “But look here, what about the danger of a riot? What are we prepared to do about those hecklers who follow Sir Oswald about from speech to speech? All the Jews and Communists? It’s enough I have to drive penny nails into my mother and father’s coffins while they’re grieving over Catherine and the grandchildren. Can’t we put on a class affair? At least give my parents something to take comfort in?”

“You’re worrying far too much for your own good, Danforth. Get home to your wife and have a glass of port. Have two. This will be a major rally, comparable to the finest rally in Berlin. Music, flags, marching, chants—it will be a spectacle. A lot of Jews and Reds are not going to spoil
that for us, believe me. We’ve recruited hundreds more Blackshirts. They’ll be stationed strategically throughout the Grand Hall and outside on the grounds as well. One look at them and our enemies will shrink away. Your parents will open up the morning paper and read about a well-run show. A nationalist show with a good deal of pride in Britain and Britain’s future.”

Buchanan lifted his umbrella sharply, and a black cab pulled over in front of them. “There you are, Danforth. Enough chitchat. We don’t want too many to take notice of us. Home to your beautiful wife and that glass of port. We’ll see you at Olympia on Thursday.”

“Right.” Edward entered the back of the cab after the driver came out and opened the door. “Thank you for dropping by Parliament to have a word with me, Buchanan. I hope everything will come off according to plan.”

“It will. Remain calm.”

“I stand to lose a great deal,” said Edward.

Buchanan didn’t respond until after the cab had sped away. “Indeed you do, Danforth.”

“Good evening, my dear.” Edward came up behind his wife as she was brushing her long black hair and kissed her on the cheek. “Where are Owen and Colm?”

She smiled and turned around, slipping her arms about his neck. “At Jeremy and Emma’s with their cousins. The rectory has quite the biggest yard this part of London.”

Edward kissed her again, this time on the mouth. “Better than the postage stamp of a yard we have here, in other words.”

“Don’t be upset. Kipp and Caroline’s townhouse has a smaller yard than ours, and your father’s new townhouse is certainly not Ashton Park, is it?”

Edward tossed his top hat on a sofa and lit a cigarette. “I’m not upset. Just sorry they don’t have the property to run around in I had when I was a child.”

“Summer is just around the corner. Then they can play at Dover Sky all they like.”

Edward sank down on the sofa next to his hat. “Dad’s planning on renovations this summer, Char. I don’t think the house can be occupied.”

She sat on the sofa with him, moving his hat onto a small table. “Well,
Ashton Park is splendid enough, don’t you think? They’ll have even more room to run about.”

“So long as they stay away from the sea cliff.”

“Oh, heavens, Edward, what’s gotten into you today? You’re fretting like a mother hen. That’s my job, isn’t it?” She moved so that she was able to get in behind him and began to rub his shoulders and neck. “You’re tight as a drum.”

He blew out a lungful of smoke and said nothing.

“Is there a big speech coming up? Some piece of legislation you need to introduce? A bill to vote on? Is that what has you wound up like a grandfather clock?”