The Serpent's Egg (7 page)

Chapter 18

October 1938

Once again Max found himself on that familiar bench on the third floor of the Gestapo building. A finger of sweat ran down the back of his neck. Anna was ecstatic. She was already working on her wedding plans. But something could still go wrong. His mind ran through all sorts of wild possibilities. It was so easy for things to turn sour in government work, for apparent racing certainties to fall at the last fence. The government worker who made the arrangements could be less influential then he thought; someone higher up the chain of command might have vetoed the whole thing. Or whoever he was could have met with an accident. He could be lying in a coma in a hospital bed, unable to sign the final document. He could be dead. Sudden, unexplained deaths were commonplace in Germany nowadays.

He ran a finger under his collar. No, it would be a mere formality now that Frau Greta had made the arrangements. He just needed to keep calm, present his documents to this Kurt Framzl and all would be well.

Framzl was a tall, fresh-faced individual wearing an SS uniform with the SS death’s head on his cap. Max handed over the two
Ariernachweise
. Framzl frowned when he saw Anna’s card. “Your fiancée is part-Jewish, I see.”

“Everything has been arranged, Herr Framzl. I was told to ask for you by name.”

“Indeed? I see nothing here. Oh, wait a moment. Your name is Noack? I have a note here somewhere.” He rummaged through a bundle of papers in a tray. “Yes, here it is. I have been asked to consider granting special approval to you and this
Mischling.
What was her name again?”

Asked to consider?

“Anna Weber.”

Framzl positioned the completed marriage application on the counter pad. “You have the application fee, Herr Noack?”

Max placed 20 Reichsmarks on the counter with a trembling hand.

Framzl opened the cash box, signed a receipt and handed it over. Max tucked it into his wallet with the first one.

Framzl placed the notes in the box. “You have something else for me?”

The implication was clear. This was the trap that they had been warned about. Offer a bribe and Anna could wave her wedding goodbye. “No, I don’t think so.”

Framzl locked the cash box. “Very well. I am willing to approve your Marriage Application. You will not be eligible for the 1,000 Reichsmarks marriage loan and there is just one other matter to be attended to.” Framzl reached under the counter and pulled out another piece of paper. He unfolded it and placed it on top of Max’s application. “Do you recognize this?”

Max examined it. It looked like a leaflet, crudely printed. “I’ve never seen it before. What is it?”

“Read it.”

Max picked up the leaflet and scanned it. It was ant-Nazi, anti-government, clearly a subversive document. It ended with the words:

‘All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.’ Edmund Burke (1729-1797)

Rise Up! Rise Up! Take a stand against the Nazis.

A vague rallying cry, thought Max, and not at all realistic. The Gestapo had a way of dealing with anyone who took a stand against them.

“What is it?”

Framzl grabbed the leaflet from him, folded it, and put it back under the counter. “It’s a broadsheet leaflet, one of many printed by the Communists, the so-called Red Orchestra. What do you think of it?”

“It’s subversive. Surely it’s not legal.”

“Of course it’s not legal. What do you think should be done about it?”

Where was this leading?

“The Communists should be arrested.”

“And they will be as soon as we can catch them. Would you like to help us with this?”

What did this have to do with a marriage application?

“I know nothing of police matters, Herr Framzl. I would have no notion how to find these people.”

“And yet you already know some of them.”

Max was horrified. “No, I don’t know these people.”

“Frau Schulze-Boysen, the actress, you know her. She was the one who interceded on your behalf.”

“I never heard of her.”

Framzl curled his lip. “We have had our eyes on Frau Schulze-Boysen and her husband for some time. We haven’t managed to locate their printer, but when we do, they will be arrested. You can help us with this task.” He handed the marriage application to Max. “Your Marriage Application is approved in principle. All you require now is the official Reich stamp and my signature. However, it will be recorded as a black mark against you on your employment record. That black mark will mean that you will never be eligible for promotion. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You can redeem yourself and the black mark may be removed if you carry out one valuable service for the Reich.”

“What sort of service?”

“You will join the Red Orchestra and work from within to help unmask the Communist subversives behind these leaflets. Bring me the location of the printer. Complete this task and I will stamp and sign your application, and the black mark may be removed from your employment record.”

Max’s heart rate doubled. “I couldn’t do that, Herr Framzl. I have no desire to join the Communist Party.”

“You must play the part like an actor. You must let these people know that you hate the Führer and the Nazi Party with a passion. You live and breathe to bring down the democratically elected government of the Fatherland by any means at your disposal. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I don’t know, Herr Framzl…”

“I know you can do it. Be passionate and they will believe you. I have every faith in you.” 

Part 2

Chapter 19

October 1938

Max took the long way back to the apartment. This Gestapo man was mad! How was he going to worm his way into the Communist Resistance, the Red Orchestra? Be passionate! Framzl was under the mistaken impression that Max was acquainted with an actress, an actress that he’d never heard of, and whose name he couldn’t recall. He had no wish to be a Gestapo informer. They were the lowest of the low. And even if he did manage somehow to join the Red Orchestra, how could he report back to the Gestapo without getting himself killed by the Communists?

What would become of him if he failed? Refusal to approve his Marriage Application could be the least of his worries.

What was he going to tell Anna? He couldn’t tell her the truth. He’d have to make something up to explain why their application was still not approved. Maybe he could persuade Framzl to stamp and sign the document without completing the impossible task, and they could still get married. If not, and he had to complete the task, Anna need never know the price he had to pay for her happiness.

He caught a tram. Leaving the tram a couple of stops from the apartment, he called into one of his favorite watering holes and drained a liter of beer to fortify himself for the battle to come. Good beer is supposed to stimulate the brain cells, but by the time he arrived at the apartment, he still hadn’t worked out what he was going to say.

#

Anna was waiting for him at the door to the apartment. “How did you get on? Do you have it?”

Max waved the document. “I have it.”

“Great! Why so glum? Is there some problem?”

“Not really.”

“What does that mean?”

She took the document from him and examined it under the light. It consisted of two sheets: the top sheet was white and bore the heading ‘Registrar’s Copy.’ The second sheet was green. It was headed ‘Applicants’ copy.’ She saw the word
genehmigt
‘approved’ on both copies. Max held his breath. He was sure she would notice the blank spaces where the official Reich stamp should be. But she didn’t.

She beamed at him. “I’d like a January wedding.”

“That’s too early, Anna. I won’t be able to take any more time off work until much later, and your employers wouldn’t be happy if you took time off during the winter season.”

“You’re right. The spring, then. March?”

“March should be fine.”

She picked up the telephone. “I’ll ring Mother and talk to her about it. I told her you would prefer to get married in Berlin. Was I wrong?”

“You were not wrong, Anna, but if they want us to marry in Dresden and it’s what you want, I won’t object.”

“A Berlin wedding will suit your mother.” Anna dialed the number, “We should thank Madam Krauss. And Frau Greta. Madam Krauss will know where we can find Frau Greta.”

And Frau Greta will know how I can contact the actress. If only I could remember her name.

#

The next day a major new exercise began in the Reich Labor Service. The head of Max’s department, Gunnar Schnerpf, handed him a bundle of executive orders.

“We’ve had word from Albert Speer’s office. Work on the Chancellery building is to be massively accelerated. They need engineers and an additional 2,000 workers per day for the next 12 months. I’ve identified several other projects that could lose some labor, but you’ll have to find the rest. See to it.” He ran a finger across his moustache and left.

Schnerpf, a decorated hero from the Great War, was short, rotund, with little hair on his head, and a stern look. His waxed handlebar moustache made up for his lack of stature. Without the moustache everybody reckoned he would have been unable to retain any control over the men in his department. His nickname was ‘the bush.’

Schnerpf had identified five construction sites that could lose 300 workers between them. Max got to work.

Schnerpf appeared by his desk again at midday. “How are you getting on, Noack?”

Max was feeling pleased with his morning’s work. He had located 1,500 of the workers required, 1,100 new labor from the camps, the rest from existing building sites. “I have most of the workers, sir. I’m just starting to trawl the records for civil engineers.”

“I have another more urgent job for you. The OKW has made a demand for 50 able-bodied workers for a special secret task overseas.”

“Where are they to be assigned?”

“I do not have that information, and if I did I couldn’t tell you.” Schnerpf scuttled back into his office.

By the end of the day, he had identified 50 workers for the secret job overseas and a list of well-qualified engineers for the Chancellery project. He completed the documentation and left it on Schnerpf’s desk to be signed and approved in the morning, adding a short note to say that he was taking another day from his holiday entitlement. He would complete the labor search later in the week.

#

The following morning he went straight to Kurfürstenstrasss. Madam Krauss opened the door dressed in a housecoat and waved him inside.

“Anna and I are most grateful for your help, Madam.”

“You have the approval?”

“Yes. You’ve made us both very happy.”

“It was nothing, child. Show me your left hand.”

He held out his left hand and she read his palm. “You and Anna will have a long and happy life together, and I see three children.”

Max took his hand back. “I’d like to thank Frau Greta, too. Can you tell me where she lives?”

Madam Krauss fixed him with eyes like rivets. “I don’t know where she lives, but the next time she visits me I will ask her to contact you.”

Chapter 20

October 1938

Next, Max took an Autobus to his family home in Lutherstadt Wittenberg, arriving in mid-afternoon. His last scheduled visit had been in September, his next was not until Christmas. Concerned about how his mother might react to an unscheduled visit, he knocked on the door and waited. When no one came, he opened the door with his key and stepped inside.

“Hello, Mother. It’s me, Max.”

No answer.

There was no one in the front parlor. He found his mother in the kitchen, standing on a chair, reaching into a kitchen cupboard.

She pointed to a biscuit tin on the table. “Hand me up that tin, will you.”

No surprise to see him walk into her kitchen on an unscheduled date. Typical Mother! He had expected some sort of negative reaction, but the one thing you could rely on was her unpredictability.

Max handed her the tin. She placed it in the cupboard and he helped her down.

She held him at arm’s length and looked him over. “You’re a bit thin. Have they been feeding you properly in Berlin?”

They?

“Yes, Mother. There’s nothing wrong with my diet. How’ve you been?”

“Weren’t you here just a couple of weeks ago?”

“Nearly three weeks, yes. I came because I have news. I would have used the telephone if you had one.”

“Wait for me in the front parlor. I’ll make tea.”

Max was still uncertain how she might react to his unscheduled visit. It wasn’t even a Saturday! She had a mercurial temperament. His childhood memories were littered with her screaming fits triggered by his actions. His most vivid recollection was of the day she found him trimming his fingernails in the kitchen. He was ten. He paid dearly for that mistake. She worked herself into such a state that she had to be sedated and taken to hospital.

He needn’t have worried. She seemed unfazed by his unscheduled visit. Nor was she concerned that he might have bad news. Upon her return from the kitchen she spent 15 minutes telling him about the comings and goings at the women’s guild and a hotly contested flower-arranging competition. The promised tea never materialized.

Eventually, the conversation got around to his private life.

“How’s Anna?”

“She’s well, thank you, Mother. It’s Anna I came to talk to you about.”