Chapter 12
A close confidant of Admiral Canaris had given the order to obtain the deportation referral for a certain Michaela Kronberg. Usually, contacting Kriminalassistent Becker of the Gestapo was Bernd’s task, but Major General Oster had ordered Knut should go.
“Why does it have to be me?” Knut muttered. He was sitting in Bernd’s office, waiting to be briefed on the details of their recent dealings with Becker.
“Because Becker doesn’t like me. Oster is hoping our dealings with the Gestapo will sail into smoother waters if you go.”
Knut pulled a face. He could see the logic behind their superior’s decision, of course, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Rescinding a deportation order was nothing less than a matter of life or death, and just thinking about negotiating human lives with men who were Nazi zealots gave him a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “The whole thing is so wrong.”
“How can it be wrong to save this woman?” Bernd looked surprised.
“That’s not what I mean. It disgusts me having to bargain for her like she’s nothing more than a pig on her way to the slaughterhouse.”
“Welcome to the reality of the Third Reich, where certain people are worth less than livestock.” Bernd sadly shook his head. “Let’s discuss what justification you can give. Becker won’t simply roll over and give up a Jew he’s already sunk his fangs into.”
Knut couldn’t resist a smile. He scooted over to sit closer to Bernd, until their elbows touched.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I was just imagining Herr Becker opening his mouth wide and picking this woman out from between his teeth.”
Now it was Bernd’s turn to smile and lean into him. “You’re outrageous.”
That’s why you love me so much. Knut didn’t dare say the words out loud. It was highly unlikely anyone was listening in – the offices were meticulously searched for bugs on a daily basis – but they could never be entirely sure.
“So, why is Frau Kronberg so important to the Reich? She’s neither a war invalid, nor did she serve in the First World War,” asked Bernd.
“It says here she’s a doctor.”
“Doctor? Then she’s not Jewish?”
Knut frowned. “Wait, I’ll take a look. The information is very sparse.
” He flipped through the notes he’d been given.
“She was a doctor and treated Canaris’ daughter before Jews were banned from the profession.
Since then, she has worked as a medical carer exclusively for Jewish patients.
Hold on, there’s something else. Her Aryan husband just died, and two days later she received the deportation order. ”
“Bastards,” muttered Bernd. “They could at least have waited a few weeks. Sending the order to a grieving widow?”
Knut snorted. “What did you expect? That the Gestapo would show its sensitive side?”
“Not really.” Bernd chuckled, furtively touching Knut’s hand with his little finger. “Now, what are you going to tell Kriminalassistent Becker? You can hardly let him get wind that Admiral Canaris is helping the woman for humanitarian reasons.”
And why not? Again, Knut didn’t voice his thoughts out loud, because the answer was obvious: because it wasn’t allowed.
In the Third Reich, nobody, especially not an admiral, was allowed to have sympathy for a Jew.
“We could say the Abwehr needs her medical skills to examine Jewish agents, who aren’t permitted to see an Aryan doctor. ”
“A shaky excuse. The plan to deploy agents hasn’t yet been approved from above.
But it’s worth a try. Whatever the reason, we need an official document proving Frau Kronberg works for the Abwehr, to make everything above board.
I can take care of that while you visit my favorite policeman at the Gestapo.
” Bernd’s face expressed so much disgust that Knut let out an involuntary snort of laughter.
“Is he really that bad?” he asked sympathetically.
“Worse.” Bernd twirled his moustache. “It’s a mystery to me how anyone can be so cold-hearted. The man could freeze fire.”
“You make this task sound more attractive all the time. Do I need to take the document with me to see Becker?”
“No, it’s enough to put it on file. But we do need a code name for Frau Kronberg.” Bernd took out paper and pencil.
“What? Right now?” Knut stared at him in horror.
“Of course, what did you think? We need it for the document that asserts Frau Kronberg is an informal Abwehr employee.” Bernd let the pen hover above the paper and looked at Knut expectantly.
“I’m a soldier, not a novelist. I can’t invent a code name on command,” Knut protested.
“Oh, come on. You’ll think of something, it’s not that hard.”
“Oh yes? Then why don’t you do it?”
Bernd smirked. “Because I’m the one doing the writing.”
After racking his brain for a few minutes for a suitable code name, Knut said, “Heloise.”
“He… what?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know who Heloise was? Tsk. Education is not what it used to be.” Knut’s father, a former elementary school principal, had always strongly encouraged his children to read books – mainly biographies or historical novels.
“So tell me.”
“Heloise was a healer who lived around the same time as Hildegard of Bingen. It’s the most appropriate name I can think of.”
Bernd wrote down the name. “Yes, it rolls well off the tongue. I’m sure Frau Kronberg will like it.”
“It doesn’t matter, since she will probably never use her code name – after all she’s not really working for the Abwehr.”
Knut took his hat and coat from the rack. “Off to battle I go! I shall defeat Becker with ease.”
Bernd burst out laughing. “Good luck.”
Opening the door, he added, “If the boss asks, I have something else to do afterward and won’t be back in the office until tomorrow.”
“I’ll let him know. Have a nice evening. Hopefully tomorrow you’ll bring him good news from the Gestapo,” Bernd answered for the benefit of two colleagues marching down the hallway, while he winked at him. Nobody must know they had a date that evening.
When Bernd arrived at Knut’s apartment that evening, he greeted him with a kiss, before he asked, “So?”
“Piece of cake.” Knut gave a satisfied grin.
“Does that mean you managed to prevent Frau Kronberg’s deportation?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you over dinner.” Knut wanted to draw out the news a little longer. “Could you please set the table? I just need to warm up the casserole quickly.”
Knut usually ate lunch in the officer’s mess at the Bendlerblock and was happy with bread and cheese in the evening.
If he needed something warm, he would let the housekeeper know, who would cook in advance for him.
It was an arrangement that served him very well, although the woman was probably wondering why he had wanted a hot dinner so often lately.
If Bernd and Knut went out together, they always had to be on their guard, so they preferred to spend their precious free time together undisturbed in Knut’s apartment. Usually they didn’t talk about work, as that took up enough of their lives already.
While eating the leek, potato and ground meat casserole, Bernd broached the subject again. “Tell me already. How was your visit to the Gestapo?”
“Grueling.” Knut put the fork aside, leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Becker had serious doubts about the story. I spent a long time persuading him before he was convinced that Frau Kronberg of all people was irreplaceable to the Wehrmacht.”
“I feared as much. It’s become more difficult for me with every visit.
” This wasn’t the first time someone had been protected from the tentacles of the Gestapo at the personal request of Hans von Dohnanyi or Admiral Canaris.
And it wasn’t just Becker who seemed suspicious over the authenticity of the requests.
Knut picked up his fork again, and chewed thoughtfully before continuing.
“I can’t tell if Becker likes me or not.
But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s intent on not letting any Jews slip through his fingers, just because the Abwehr sticks their oar in, as he put it.
We’ll have to tell Dohnanyi that the Gestapo are digging their heels in, and Frau Kronberg’s suspension was probably the last we’ll get. ”
“He won’t want to hear that.” Bernd’s smile warmed Knut’s heart. “You know him. Always trying to help others.”
“Did you know he has Jewish heritage himself?”
“No, but it explains a lot.”
“I believe he couldn’t provide the proof of Aryan ancestry required by the Civil Service Act because his maternal grandfather’s religious affiliation was unclear. He was exempted from disclosing his ancestry at the time because he was classified as a front-line combatant.”
Bernd frowned. “I didn’t know he served.”
“He didn’t, he was just a volunteer technical assistant, which is why the whole thing surprised me so much.
He must have had advocates in important positions for this to be possible at all.
Be that as it may, Hitler declared him an honorary Aryan in 1936.
Maybe that’s why he’s so eager to help other Jews. ”
Bernd nodded. “Who knows? The reason isn’t important. He doesn’t let obstacles get in his way. He’s incredibly tenacious.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed that.” Knut grinned.
After dinner, they sat down on the sofa in the small, cozy living room. Bernd uncorked the bottle of red wine he had brought from his parents’ well-stocked wine cellar, while Knut put a record on the gramophone. The sounds of a Mozart serenade drifted through the room.
“Life could be so beautiful,” he muttered after they had toasted.
“Life is beautiful,” Bernd corrected him, placing his free hand on Knut’s thigh.
“Apart from the war, the Nazis, the plight of the Jews, the Allied bombs—”
“Ssh.” Bernd put a finger to his lips. “Don’t wish for it. If I had the choice, I wouldn’t mind a night in bed instead of in the air-raid shelter.”
Knut groaned. “Especially with our Frau Blockwart poking her nose in the business of the other residents again.”
“You really scared her last week with your answer.”
“Yes, that was satisfying.” Knut smirked at the memory and recalled his words: “Frau Stenzel, if I tell you what my colleague and I are working on, I will have to take you into immediate protective custody.”
“Hopefully that silenced her gossiping tongue for a while,” Bernd shuddered. “She should work for the Gestapo.”
“She probably does, as an informant.”
“Very possibly. They must have an entire stack of denunciations from Frau Stenzel.”
“Which brings us back to Frau Kronberg.” An idea was forming at the back of Knut’s mind, which he couldn’t yet quite express.
“What does she have to do with it?”
“I think…” Knut fell silent, because he needed a moment to collect his thoughts.
Bernd was familiar with his thought processes and waited patiently, refilling the wine glasses.
“… sooner or later the Gestapo will get tired of these suspensions and send these people a second deportation notice. At which point there will be nothing our department can do.”
“Someone higher ranking would have to intervene – Oster, or the admiral himself.”
“But can they afford to, politically? What kind of impression does it make if Canaris turns up on the Gestapo’s doorstep to save a random Jew from deportation? Nobody can be that important that the boss has to intervene personally.”
“That’s also true.” Bernd twirled his moustache.
This time it was Knut’s turn to wait patiently while Bernd sipped at his wine glass and put his thoughts in order.
“These people – Frau Kronberg, the Seiferts, Herr Lange and his wife – the only place they are safe is in another country.” Bernd was talking himself into an outright rage.
“I’m sorry to curb your enthusiasm, but emigration is prohibited for Jews, remember?” Knut’s heart contracted in pain. His sister had experienced it first-hand, literally centimeters from the Swiss border.
“Not if there’s a positive interest for the Reich.”
“And what exactly do a doctor and a lawyer have that is in the national interest?”
“Nothing.” Bernd’s shoulders drooped for a moment.
“Exactly. What became of the idea to use them as agents?” asked Knut. “Then a genuine interest would exist, and we could apply for emigration permits for them.”
“I haven’t had the opportunity to propose the plan to Dohnanyi. We both had so much to do that we only ever met in passing. I didn’t want to broach the subject where anyone could hear.”
“Hmm. Supposing he says yes, do you believe someone like Herr Lange would agree to work for us? I know for certain my sister Edith wouldn’t.”
“It would only be for appearances’ sake. As soon as he’s crossed the border, he can drop the disguise.”
“In any case, we need approval from our seniors first. Tomorrow is our department meeting, and I happen to know that the only party-faithful man is on a business trip.” Knut felt the excitement pulsing in his veins.
“Well, if that isn’t a good omen! I shall simply present the proposal.” Bernd twirled his moustache.
“And I’ll pretend I’m hearing about it for the first time.” Knut gave Bernd a kiss. “After a short reflection, I shall then support your idea. It’ll work, I’m sure of it.”
“Let’s hope so.” Bernd looked at the clock. “I must leave. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight.” Knut wished they could live together like other lovers. The constant secrecy was shredding his nerves.