Chapter 13
Leonore woke before the alarm clock sounded due to the chirping of birds. Despite the third war winter, nothing seemed to have changed and the people, like the birds, were going about their daily lives more or less unrestricted – with the exception of Jews.
She sprawled, laying down for a few more minutes to enjoy the silence in the office before a hectic new day began.
Then she got up, dressed, and swept any evidence of her overnight stay into the broom cupboard.
Herr Balsen may have given her permission to sleep on the sofa in his office, but none of his many visitors should be the wiser.
Once she had finished her usual morning tasks and made coffee, she waited for Herr Balsen. He was later than usual. Finally, he breezed in the door. “Is there anything important in the diary today?”
“The sales representative from the printing house intends to visit this afternoon, and an agent from the Ministry of Propaganda about the summer catalogue.”
“Not them again,” groaned Herr Balsen. “Did the ministry say what they wanted?”
“There seems to be a problem with one of the authors being classified as undesirable.”
“Goddamn bastards. They’ve reviewed and approved our entire publication program.
And now they want to make more last-minute changes?
Do those fossilized bureaucrats have the faintest idea how much money it costs me to have an entire print run pulped?
And with the current paper shortage? Where am I supposed to find a replacement at such short notice?
” Herr Balsen paused briefly to reach for his coffee cup.
He was trembling with such violent anger, Leonore feared he’d spill it all.
After emptying the entire contents in one gulp, he asked in a calmer voice, “Did they say which author it was?”
“Sadly not. His secretary merely announced that Herr Schulze from the Reich Ministry of Education would like to speak to you personally.”
Herr Balsen grunted something incomprehensible. “When’s he coming?”
“At eleven o’clock.” Leonore knew her boss liked to schedule appointments that were liable to be important or challenging before lunch.
“I don’t want to be disturbed until then.”
“Very well.” Leonore waited until he had closed the door behind him, before she returned to the reception area. She had barely had time to sit down at the desk when the telephone rang.
“Tell your boss that—” the connection broke off.
This was not an unusual occurrence – it had been happening ever more frequently in recent times – so she busied herself typing letters while she waited for the caller to try again. But nothing happened.
On the stroke of eleven, the door opened, and Herr Schulze strode in, with two men in suits in tow. Leonore’s skin crawled. Regardless of their civilian clothing, she could almost smell they were both Gestapo.
Ignoring her fear, she put on a friendly face. “Good morning, gentlemen, Herr Balsen is expecting Herr Schulze already. Can I offer you a coffee?”
“That won’t be necessary,” growled one of the companions. He clearly didn’t think it important to introduce himself.
Leonore pulled herself together and stood up. “One moment please, I’ll let Herr Balsen know you’re here.”
But the other companion stood in her way. “Stay seated, Fr?ulein. We’ll find the way.”
Eyes wide, she stared at the man. The entire setup smelled like trouble, but there was nothing she could do.
She couldn’t even warn Herr Balsen. For a moment, she considered giving a loud shout, but what good would that have done?
Herr Balsen wasn’t a twenty-year-old who might manage to escape through the window, even if by some miracle he found the time to do so.
So she bit her lip and nodded obediently. “Very well, sir.”
The moment the three men had disappeared into the adjoining room, she leaped up and ran to the outer door.
Her hand was already on the doorknob when she paused to think.
Running away would only arouse suspicion.
She turned around and slipped back behind her desk, where she sat nervously at the typewriter.
Her fingers lay motionless on the keys as she strained to hear what was going on behind the closed door to Herr Balsen’s office. But she couldn’t hear anything.
After a few minutes, she tiptoed to the door. Her ear pressed to the cool wood, she heard voices yet didn’t understand the words. Herr Balsen said something, then a deep voice – not Herr Schulze – answered, followed by a response from Herr Balsen which sounded highly indignant. Then came a murmur.
Leonore gave up and crept back to the desk. For better or worse, she’d have to wait for whatever was going to happen. The meeting seemed to drag on endlessly. Her nerves were stretched to breaking point when suddenly the door opened.
Hastily, she let her fingers glide across the keyboard, evenly typing the words of a non-existent letter.
Dear Sirs,
Thank you very much for your message—
Suddenly, Herr Balsen stood in front of her, his face a stony mask. Behind him stood the two men in civilian clothes, with Herr Schulze a few steps further away.
“Fr?ulein Leonore, please inform my wife that I have been arrested. I am accused of making statements critical of the regime.”
Leonore almost choked. Herr Balsen was lucky to only have been arrested on that count, as he had far worse crimes to his name. For example, allowing a Jewess to sleep in his office, and tolerating her not wearing the yellow star. For that, he could be sent to a concentration camp without trial.
It took a few seconds for her to recover to the point where she could speak again. “Certainly, Herr Balsen. Do you know where you are being taken?”
Her boss looked at Herr Schulze, who rolled his eyes. “I suppose so. To the prison on Alexanderplatz.”
“Let’s go,” commanded one of his companions, leaving no doubt they were Gestapo.
“Please lock the office when you go home tonight,” her boss added. It was clearly his way of saying it was too dangerous to stay in his office.
“Certainly, Herr Balsen. I’ll leave everything tidy.” Leonore bowed her head. The sooner she disappeared, the better.
As soon as the little group had left the office, Leonore jumped up, gathered her few belongings and stuffed everything into her suitcase. Then she gazed around the office, grabbed the half-full container of sugar and the ersatz coffee, and walked out. She was never going to return.
Once she had left the building the full extent of what had happened began to sink in: regardless of whether Herr Balsen was released from custody or not, he would no longer be able to hold a protective hand over her. She would not only have to find a new place to stay, but also a new job.
A deep sigh welled up from the depths of her chest. She didn’t have many options. There were few people in her circle of friends who could accommodate her for longer than a night or two, since most lived in cramped apartments with their families.
Who hired a Jew these days? Questions upon questions, none of which she had an answer for. As always, her first port of call was Birgit, where she could spend several days on her friend’s sofa. But Birgit wouldn’t return home from work until evening.
What could Leonore do in the meantime? She decided to leave her suitcase with an acquaintance who was at home with a small child, and then made her way to Herr Balsen’s home.
She knew the address from the numerous private letters she had typed for him, although she had never been there and had only a vague idea how to find the street.
She borrowed a city map from her acquaintance and set off – the star safely hidden in her coat pocket.
Grunewald was a district of opulent villas. Leonore’s heart hammered as she rang the doorbell of the Balsens’ fashionable late nineteenth-century grand home.
A maid in a black dress with a freshly starched apron and cap opened the door. “Can I help you, madam?”
“My name is Leonore Vogel, I’m Herr Balsen’s secretary. He sent me to deliver a message to his wife.”
If the maid found it unusual that her employer didn’t simply pick up the telephone, she didn’t let it show. “Please follow me.”
Once inside, Leonore gazed in awe at the magnificent entrance hall with its marble floor. She had only ever seen halls like this in public buildings or museums. How wonderful it must be to live here.
“Please have a seat.” The maid pointed to some chairs placed against the wall. “I will inform the lady of the house.”
Leonore gazed at the stylish interior and the expensive-looking paintings on the wall. It was in stark contrast to the sober, sparsely furnished office, where the only decor was the numerous stacks of books, magazines and papers.
A few minutes later, a tall, slender brunette wearing a perfectly fitting dove-blue two-piece suit strode down the stairs.
“Fr?ulein Vogel. How nice to finally meet you. Please, join me in the library.”
Leonore dreaded breaking the bad news to Frau Balsen. She followed her in silence, gripping her purse. Stepping into the library, her wonder continued.
Every wall of the huge room was fitted from floor to ceiling with shelves full of books.
To her left were valuable vintage original editions, bound in leather or linen.
On her right, she recognized many classics of German, French and English literature, and on the wall facing the window stood the collected works of contemporary literature from Herr Balsen’s publishing house.
“What brings you to me?” enquired Frau Balsen.
“I’m so very sorry.” Leonore’s voice trembled. “Your husband was arrested this morning. I rushed here as fast as I could.”
Frau Balsen closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then, in a remarkably composed voice, she said, “We’ve feared for a while that this might happen. Can you tell me where he was taken?”
Leonore was very proud that she’d had the presence of mind to ask where he would be. “To the prison on Alexanderplatz.”
“Good, that’s a start.” Frau Balsen paused. “Thank you for bringing me the news so quickly. Perhaps it’s not too late and I may be able to pull some strings to get my husband released.”
“It was the least I could do.”
“My husband has spoken very highly of you. Is there some way I can help you?”
Despite sensing the offer was sincere, she hesitated to ask for what she needed most. “I’ll get by all right.”
“I know you slept in his office. You cannot return there on any account. The Gestapo will probably carry out a search and you had best not be found there.” Frau Balsen seemed to be wrestling inwardly.
“Unfortunately, I can’t offer you a bed here either.
It’s too dangerous. I’m certain they will come to search the house as well.
You must never contact me again, if you don’t want to be dragged into this matter. ”
“I’ll keep well away from both your house and your husband’s office.” Leonore moved to take her leave, when Frau Balsen spoke again.
“Wait. Perhaps… No, it’s impossible. It would put us both in unnecessary danger.” She walked to the inlaid wooden bureau at the window, rummaged in a drawer, and took something out. “Here, take this.”
Leonore stared speechlessly at the bundle of banknotes in Frau Balsen’s hand. “I can’t possibly accept that.”
“Of course, you can. You’re going to need it.”
“Thank you.” Leonore tucked the money away in her purse, because she wasn’t proud enough to protest for more than the sake of politeness. After all, she had just lost her job.
“I’ll see what else I can do for you.” Frau Balsen handed her a business card. “Contact this man next week. He may be able to help you.”
Lieutenant Bernd Ruben. Amt Ausland / Abwehr, Leonore read. “A Wehrmacht officer?”
“Don’t worry. Even the Wehrmacht has its sympathizers. But please, don’t mention his name to anyone.”
“I shall be as silent as the grave. Thank you so, so much, again, Frau Balsen.” Leonore wished she could offer the woman something in return, or at least speak some words of comfort. “I hope your husband will be released soon.”
“I hope so too. Now go, and under no circumstances must you ever come back here.” Then Frau Balsen rang for the maid, who appeared almost immediately with a curtsey. “Yes, madam?”
“Please escort Fr?ulein Vogel out.”
Leonore said goodbye and followed the maid to the front door. Back on the street, she felt inside her purse for the banknotes, to make sure she hadn’t dreamed the events of the last half hour.
The money was still there, along with the calling card of the mysterious Abwehr Lieutenant.
A shiver trickled down her back as she realized she would have to enter the lion’s den.