The Serpent's Egg (21 page)

“Yes, and quite right too.” She wiped the table where his hands had been resting. “I hope you didn’t touch anything in the parlor. I cleaned in there this morning. Tell me why you’re here again?”

“I don’t think I touched anything. I just dropped in to see how you were.”

“Well, there’s no need. You’re a married man now. You shouldn’t have to keep calling to see your old mother.”

“I’d be happy to telephone you from time to time, but you haven’t got a telephone yet, have you?”

His head was spinning on the return autobus journey. Apart from forgetting he was there and leaving him waiting for 30 minutes in the parlor, she seemed a different person. They had completed a conversation about reading and smoking, entirely without tangents or deviations. Her obsessive cleaning was a worry, though.

She had acknowledged that he was a married man, but she hadn’t said a word about Anna, good, bad or indifferent.

Chapter 59

June 1939

The Gestapo picked up Max again on his way to work on Monday morning. They drove him to headquarters, frog-marched him to Framzl’s office, and dumped him in a seat.

The man standing behind Framzl’s desk was not Framzl. He wore the same gray uniform, the same death’s head on his cap, but he was younger, taller, with small, steely blue eyes and almost white blond hair. He
slammed a copy of the new leaflet on the desk. “What the hell is this?”

Max shook his head.

“Concerned citizens have been handing this filth into police stations all over the city. Every day since the weekend. They have been found all over the city, in bus stations, U-Bahn carriages, and even in the terminal at Tempelhof. Read what it says.”

Max picked up the leaflet and read the main headline: ‘Is Moscow Planning an Invasion of the Fatherland?’ The byline read ‘Grock.’

The Gestapo man’s voice rose half an octave. “It’s utter nonsense, obvious Communist propaganda designed to stir up unrest, to unsettle the good people of Germany.”

“The Communists ought to be arrested.”

“Who is this ‘Grock’?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know. How long have you been working with the Communist Resistance?”

“Six months?”

“So you admit membership of the subversive organization.”

“Yes, of course. Herr Framzl forced me to join.”

The Gestapo man blinked. “I would advise you to weigh your words carefully. This is not a game. You have admitted membership of the Red Orchestra.”

The left hand of the Gestapo didn’t know what was in its right hand!

“Yes, but as I said, I joined at the express direction of Herr Framzl. Check with him. He will confirm my story.”

“That is not possible. Framzl is no longer with this office, and he won’t be returning.”

Max felt the ground shift under his feet. “I spoke with him six months ago. He promised to approve my Marriage Application, but only if I joined the Red Orchestra.”

“Go on.”

The glint in the Gestapo man’s eyes suggested this was an invitation to Max to dig himself deeper into the hole he was already in. He touched his false tooth with his tongue.

“Framzl wanted me to bring him the location of the subversives’ printer. He said if I gave him this information he would approve my application.”

“I see, and you agreed?”

“Naturally. I had no other option.”

“And have you located the printer?”

“No.”

“You say you’ve been with the Communists for six months and you expect me to believe you still don’t know where their print operation is?”

“It’s a closely guarded secret, but I’m getting close. To tell you the truth, I believe I was on the brink of discovering it when…”

“When what?

“You arrested Harro Schulze-Boysen.”

The Gestapo man blinked again. “The arrest of Schulze-Boysen was entirely justified and legal.”

“Maybe so, but since then, the Red Orchestra has locked everything up.”

The Gestapo man left the room for several minutes, leaving Max under the watchful gaze of the picture of Adolf Hitler. His tongue rocked the cyanide capsule in his mouth. When the Gestapo man returned, he was carrying a folder. “Your Marriage Authorization has been identified as a forgery. It was never approved by this office.”

Max said nothing.

“Tell me why you found it necessary to forge your Authorization.”

“I told you. I couldn’t find the subversives’ printer but my fiancée wanted to get married. She fixed the date. What else could I do?”

“Forgery is a most serious crime. Tell me why I shouldn’t throw you in a cell right now and let two of my men exercise their ax handles on your bones.”

A tremor ran up Max’s spine. He said nothing.

“Our records show that SS-Sturmbannführer Framzl also attempted to extort money from you for his signature. Is that correct?”

Max shook his head, intending to tell the truth, but then he thought, if Framzl has been shipped off to a camp for corruption, why not leave him there?

“Yes, that’s right.”

The Gestapo man checked the folder again. “The report we received was traced back to a Salvatore Vigo, Roman Catholic Pastor. Do you know this man?”

“He was the one who married us.”

“What about Pastor Gunther Schlurr, a colleague of Pastor Vigo’s, do you know him?”

Max shook his head. “I don’t know him.”

He snapped the folder closed. “This whole episode stinks like rotten fish. Your story makes little sense. However, t
he activities of the Red Orchestra must be brought to a halt at all costs. From now on you will report to me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Herr…”

“Traut. SS-Sturmführer Jürgen Traut. Remember the name. And remember if you fail to give me what I need, your young bride will quickly find herself drawing a widow’s pension.”

Chapter 60

June 1939

Harro Schulze-Boysen called an emergency meeting of the two newly merged networks of the Red Orchestra. They met in the Schulze-Boysen mansion in Pankow under cover of a social event. Max knew just a few of those present. Frau Greta was there with Adam, and he recognized Bruno, the Communist. Libertas seemed especially close to an American woman called Mildred and her husband whose name was Arvid. Max looked around for Vigo, but couldn’t find him.

Pauletta, the maid, ensured that everyone had a drink in hand before Libertas opened proceedings. “Thank you all for coming, tonight. Harro and I want all members of our network to know that we are grateful to every one of you for your support and help in the past. We look forward to working much more closely together with Arvid and his network. I am sure you will all agree that merging our two networks was the right thing to do at this time. Like combining the strings and the bass in a real orchestra, I’m sure the Red Orchestra will make more and better music in the future.”

This was greeted by polite applause.

“Now Harro has something to tell us. Harro?”

“Thank you, my darling. I’m sure everyone will agree that our efforts in the past would never have been as successful without Libertas’s diligent work.”

More applause, more boisterous this time.
 

“Last week I was called into the office of the Secretary General of the Air Ministry. I really had no idea what to expect. I thought maybe they had wind of our little printing enterprise. But that wasn’t it.”

He paused. Everyone held their breath.

“He informed me that the Air Ministry has promoted me. I am to be moved from head office to the office of Luftwaffe Command.”

Immediately, the room was humming as each person realized the implications of what Harro had said. He had been the jewel in the intelligence gathering activities of the Orchestra from the beginning. The intelligence that he had collected within the Air Ministry had been of the highest quality. A move to the Luftwaffe would see him even better placed to collect military intelligence.

“That’s not the full story.” Silence descended on the group. “I am to be placed in the Intelligence Office within the Luftwaffe.”

The room erupted. There was a round of cheers. Glasses were heard chinking together.

Adam shook Harro vigorously by the hand. “Wonderful news. Wonderful.”

Arvid clapped him on the back. “Many congratulations, my friend.”

Harro held up a hand for silence. “It’s good news, yes, but it comes at the worst possible time. Arvid’s contacts in the Soviet and U.S. Embassies would have been invaluable for rapid communication of information to those interested beyond our borders, but without those contacts, we are forced to relysolely on our couriers to carry the intelligence to our friends in Belgium and France for transmission to Moscow. I’m sure you know that our overtures to the KPD in exile in Prague and Paris have been rebuffed. As an intelligence network, we are adrift. We will try to improve on that situation. In the meantime, we must accelerate our printed output and expand our distribution networks wherever possible. I would ask all of you to think about new outlets for our leaflets.”

Arvid left early, but the party continued well into the night. As the guests were leaving – one by one or in pairs – Harro asked Dr. Himpel to remain. When all the guests had gone, he invited the dentist into his study. Libertas asked the maid, Pauletta, to rustle up coffee.

Harro waited until Pauletta had left the room and closed the door. “I’ve been informed about a major Wehrmacht strategic plan for the possible invasion of the Soviet Union. The plan is called Operation Fritz. We need to alert Moscow as soon as possible. I’ve spoken to Arvid and Adam about this, and they have agreed that we should reach out to our Marxist comrades in exile for help. The KPD is holding a weekend conference in Zurich early next month. We’d like you, Dr. Himpel, to go to the conference and establish contact with any of the KPD in exile who can help us. You know them. They will listen to you. Pass on the information about Operation Fritz. Explain our difficulty and ask them to exert whatever influence they have with Moscow to let us have our own shortwave radio transmitter here, in Berlin.”

Dr. Himpel nodded. “Leave it to me.”

“Take Peter Riese with you. He should be a great help. He is a member of the Communist Party and he’s Swiss-German. I want you to take Delma with you as well. Our doctor has advised her to seek out the clean Alpine air of Switzerland.”

Chapter 61

July 1939

On the Wednesday evening of the first week of July, there was an urgent hammering on Max’s apartment door. He opened it and Bruno the Communist stepped inside.

He was out of breath. “Can you travel on Saturday?”

“Travel? Where to? Belgium?”

“Switzerland. Dr. Himpel and Delma are taking the train to Zurich. Peter Riese was supposed to go with them, but he’s unavailable. Herr Schulze-Boysen has asked me to give you this.” He thrust a travel permit at him. It was made out in the name Gunther Schlurr.

“Unavailable? What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.” He put the permit in Max’s hand. “I have to go.”

#

Friday night at 9:00 pm, Max found himself with Dr. Himpel on an overnight express train to Zurich. They had a compartment to themselves. The flickering lights in the ceiling cast shadows over the dentist’s deep-set eyes and under his nose, giving him the look of an evil madman.

“Where’s Delma?”

“She’s in a sleeping compartment.”

The movement of his mouth did nothing to humanize Dr. Himpel. Elizabeth Browning’s monster sprang to Max’s mind. “So tell me what the trip is about and what will be expected of me.”

“The KPD is holding a major conference with delegations from all over Germany and other countries in Europe. We are hoping to strengthen our links with the Communist Party in exile. The group in Zurich is particularly strong, and they have solid contacts in the Kremlin. Our principal objective is to get them to persuade Moscow to let us operate our own shortwave radio transmitter in Berlin.”

“And my role?”

He lifted a shoulder. “We are the official delegation from Berlin. One man wouldn’t constitute a delegation.”

Himpel closed his eyes, terminating any further discussion.

The train rattled on through the night. At midnight, the compartment lights were extinguished. The sky was partially overcast, and there was a strong wind blowing. A half moon played hide and seek above the clouds. Dr. Himpel began to snore.

Max closed his eyes and reviewed his situation. He was a married man, although the Berlin registrar might issue an annulment at any time. Anna would be devastated if that happened. Her mother, even more so.

His tongue toyed with the false tooth in his mouth, and his father’s lighter turned and turned in his hand. The members of the Red Orchestra were now all good friends. Max would rather die than betray them. He smiled. That was certainly not what Framzl had intended when he introduced him to the group.