Chapter 20
A huge weight had fallen from Knut’s shoulders when Gestapo chief SS-Gruppenführer Müller had finally instructed his staff to issue exit permits and passports for the members of Operation Seven.
It pained him to know he had failed to include Edith and Julius in the operation.
Sadly, the reasons he had explained to Herr Lange had been all too real.
After being turned back by German guards at the Swiss border, the couple would immediately fall under suspicion.
If that weren’t enough, his brother Joseph was known by name through half of Europe and Edith’s family connection with Joseph and Knut would never pass unnoticed.
They would have endangered the other refugees.
That evening he’d arranged to meet Bernd for dinner.
As usual, they arrived separately and would also leave separately, to give the air of an evening between colleagues.
The secrecy weighed heavily on him and often made him doubt himself as well as his love for Bernd, just as he doubted his love for Edith because he didn’t acknowledge her publicly.
He gave a deep sigh. Nobody understood his pangs of conscience, not even Bernd.
As he entered the restaurant, he saw that Bernd hadn’t yet arrived. It wasn’t at all like him to be late. Knut sat down at a free table in the corner and waited. Five minutes passed until Bernd stepped through the revolving door.
Knut’s face lit up momentarily, before his smile disappeared once he noticed that Bernd was accompanied by a man in uniform.
“Good evening, Knut. This is Emil from the finance division. I hope you don’t mind me bringing him.” Bernd cast him an apologetic look.
“Not at all.” If Bernd had brought a colleague to their arranged dinner, he must have a good reason.
“Emil is to take over the financial side of Operation Seven, so I thought we could discuss the situation over an after-work beer.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Emil.” Knut stood up and shook the other’s hand.
“Thank you for letting me join. I’m new in Berlin, recently moved here from my posting in Turkey and don’t know anyone yet.” Emil was in his mid-thirties, small, wiry and wore glasses with immensely thick lenses.
“Not at all. A friendly colleague is always welcome.” Knut made pains to look cheerful, even if he was inwardly grinding his teeth. He would have preferred to throw Emil, no matter how friendly or helpful he might be, straight out into the street.
“Emil is an expert in forensic financial analysis. He’ll take care of the material details of the operation,” Bernd explained once they had sat down.
Making the best of the situation, Knut struck up conversation with the financial expert. “Where did you train in finance?”
Emil looked around cautiously before explaining in a low voice, “Well, it’s no secret that I did a banking apprenticeship before the war.
After that, I spent some time in Zurich before taking up a job in Munich in the foreign exchange department of Falkenstein Bank.
Eventually, I was promoted to department manager. ”
Knut almost fell off his chair.
“It seems you’re well equipped for your current task.” Knut judged it better to not mention that the Falkenstein Bank had belonged to his brother-in-law Julius Falkenstein before its Aryanization.
“Herr Falkenstein was a strict taskmaster and there’s nothing he doesn’t know about foreign exchange transactions.” Flustered, Emil pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. “I mean, well, that was before the war. I didn’t mean to say that Jews–”
“It’s all right,” Bernd interrupted him.
Their conversation paused while the waitress took their order. Once she had left, Emil continued. “I was recently drafted into the operation. My superior has indicated that there may be serious obstacles.”
Having a date in mind, Knut had selected a table where they couldn’t be overheard, which came to his advantage now. “I believe the problem has been solved. After a direct order from the Führer to use Jews as agents, the wheels have finally been set in motion at the Gestapo.”
Emil waved his response aside. “That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about the regrettable political attitude of the Swiss immigration police, something which we can probably only settle in a typically Swiss manner.”
Knut was baffled. “Can you elaborate, please?”
“Then you haven’t heard?” Emil looked questioningly from Knut to Bernd.
They both shook their heads.
“Alas,” Emil pushed his glasses up again. “At a meeting of the cantonal immigration police in Montreux last week, the main topic of discussion was the future approach to the growing number of refugees at the Swiss border.”
Knut groaned, since he could imagine what Emil was getting at.
“Heinrich Rothmund, head of the Swiss Immigration Office, spoke of the dangers of Judaization during the meeting. As a result, the government has closed the border to Jews.”
Knut looked over at Bernd, whose jaw had dropped in horror.
Emil shrugged apologetically. “An official letter to the cantons reads: ‘Political refugees, i.e. foreigners who can credibly claim to be such at their first interview, are not to be turned away. Those claiming to be refugees for mere racial reasons, for example Jews, are not considered political refugees.’”
“That’s… bad news.” Knut swallowed hard. Once again, Operation Seven seemed doomed to failure.
Emil nodded. “The inevitable public protests followed, upon which Swiss Minister of Justice Eduard von Steiger gave a speech outside the Young Church in Zurich-Oerlikon. He said, among other things: ‘A man in command of a small, overloaded lifeboat with limited capacity and equally limited supplies, seeing thousands of victims of a shipwreck crying out for rescue, must seem harsh if he cannot accommodate all of them. And yet he can demonstrate his humanity by warning them in time against false hope, and trying to save at least those he has already taken in.’”
“Nice comparison. Poor, unfortunate Switzerland, an overcrowded boat about to sink.” Bernd’s words dripped with sarcasm.
“You said earlier we could approach this in a typically Swiss manner. What did you mean?” Knut tilted his head.
“Money.” Emil gave a broad grin. “Money rules the world and nowhere more so than in Switzerland.”
Bernd’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought the Allies had put a stop to human trafficking, especially of Jews.”
“That’s what makes this matter so sensitive.
We must approach it very delicately. We don’t sell Jews to neutral countries, we merely equip them with the necessary means to support themselves in their destination country, so that they don’t become a burden to the state.
The German government therefore isn’t profiting from the misfortune of persecuted Jews. ”
To Knut this was pure hypocrisy. Anyone who could pay was allowed to flee to safe territory, while the poor had to stay.
“Where will the money come from? And how much are they demanding?” asked Bernd.
“My department will be responsible for that. I can’t reveal details of the exact procedures and sources.
At the moment, I can only say that we have to approach the issue from two angles: first, the agents must contribute their own assets to obtain internal approvals from Wehrmacht High Command and the Gestapo.
Secondly, someone must travel to Switzerland and obtain agreement from the authorities there.
In addition, he must sound out the minimum amount per person the immigration police are willing to accept. ”
Knut ran a hand through his hair. It felt as though they were jinxed; as soon as one problem was solved, two more appeared.
“I assume your department will make the trip to Switzerland?” Bernd asked.
“Unfortunately not.” Emil grimaced. “I’d love to visit Zurich, to enjoy a real coffee and a Swiss chocolate pastry, but internal squabbles won’t allow it. It will have to be someone from the Foreign Office.”
“If there’s coffee, I’m in.” Knut grinned, though he didn’t hold out much hope of a trip to the neutral country.
“Let’s not talk about work anymore,” Bernd decided, signaling to the waitress to bring three more beers. “The next round is on me.”
By the time they left, it was getting late. As they walked toward the restaurant exit, Knut nudged Bernd and slid a spare key to his apartment into his friend’s pocket.
They said goodbye to Emil, who set off to the tram stop.
“Wait,” said Bernd. “My stop is in that direction too.”
A pang of disappointment hit Knut, until he noticed Bernd’s wink and casually said goodbye. “Have a good journey home. See you tomorrow.”
“You too,” replied Emil and Bernd.
In his apartment, Knut brewed coffee, or rather, ersatz coffee, and dreamed of sitting in the bright sunshine in Zurich’s Bahnhofstrasse, sipping real coffee and biting into a delicious chocolate pastry.
Just as the coffee finished brewing, the door opened and Bernd walked in.
“At last,” said Knut, wrapping his arms around Bernd’s neck.
“Sorry about earlier. I could hardly say no when Emil asked if he could join me.”
“That’s all right. You’re here now.”
“Do I smell ersatz coffee?” Bernd turned up his nose.
“I’m afraid you do, sir.” Knut made an exaggerated bow, laughing to himself, because not even Bernd’s rich father had access to real coffee anymore.
“That will have to change. I don’t think I can survive on that disgusting stuff much longer.” Bernd grimaced.
“There’s just one solution…”
“We’re going to Switzerland.” Bernd finished Knut’s sentence, took him by the shoulders and danced with him through the kitchen.
“Stop, you’re making me all giddy,” Knut complained.
“And I thought you liked that.” Bernd stopped and gave him a kiss that did nothing to ease his lightheadedness.
“Do you believe in miracles?” Knut asked when they came up for air.
“I absolutely do. We should start planning what to pack for our trip to Zurich, since we can’t be seen there in uniform.”
A wave of warmth spread through Knut’s limbs, and he pushed all problems, doubts and worries away. Until the next morning, he wanted to pretend he was living on cloud nine.