Chapter 24
Lizzie weaved back through the medieval streets of the Old Town.
Dusk had fallen, and she glanced around as she passed a stone fountain, her heels tip-tapping softly on the cobblestones.
The streets were busy at this hour with people leaving work, and she felt safety in numbers.
Her fingers brushed the package in her pocket, and the realisation of the damning intelligence she might have in her possession struck her.
Pausing outside a jeweller's store, she made a show of browsing in the window as she studied the reflection in the glass to check she wasn’t being followed.
The feeling that she was being watched had intensified since the ball.
Based on what she learnt in Swiss Finishing School, she shouldn’t be at all surprised to be under surveillance.
The most likely candidates following her would be from Swiss counterintelligence, as they had access to lists of who entered the country, and they were said to keep a keen eye on persons of interest.
After Lizzie crossed the bridge into Kirchenfeld, she saw the Legation still had lights on.
She contemplated whether to open the package in the diplomatic building.
That way, she could hide it there afterwards, or should she return to her apartment where she could study it in complete privacy?
Pemberton had a way of appearing over her shoulder when she least expected it.
With that in mind, she hurried past the Legation under cover of the fading light and headed towards her building.
There was no one in front of her on the wide avenue, but as she walked, she sensed she wasn’t alone, and turned back, pausing for a few seconds.
There was no one behind her either. She increased her pace, her mind racing at the thought of what was at stake if someone got hold of the package.
The five-storey cream facade of her building appeared in the distance, and the iron-railed balconies beckoned.
She had nearly made it and almost reached the stone steps when she heard a noise.
Her heart was hammering now, and instead of looking back, she abandoned all pretence of decorum and shot up the steps, slamming the heavy door behind her.
The lights were dim in the entrance. Rather than take the temperamental caged lift, as she sometimes did to save herself the arduous climb to the top floor, she raced up the steps two at a time.
As she reached the third floor, what sounded like the thud of the heavy outer door echoed up the stairwell.
She was no longer alone, and her senses were on fire as she ran, pushing herself to move faster, all the while conscious that someone might be closing in on her.
Terror gave her wings, and she sped to the top, fumbling for her brass key in her bag as she ran.
As she placed the key in the lock, adrenaline rushed through her.
It reminded her of when she and her siblings would play hide and seek with their cousins in St. Malo.
There was that overwhelming fear that someone was about to reach out and touch you.
Lizzie glanced sideways and thought she glimpsed a silhouette on the steps, but the lighting was poor, and it may have been a shadow.
Fumbling as she turned the key, mercifully the door clicked open, and she threw herself inside and slammed it shut behind her.
Leaning against the solid wood door, her heart pounded, and the relief of making it inside made her tremble.
Stooping to lay her handbag on the floor, she listened carefully with her ear to the cold door.
Had someone really followed her, or was she imagining it?
The thud of the entrance hall door could have just been another resident returning home, or an evening visitor.
Lizzie gradually steadied, and she breathed deeply to calm herself.
More used to the explicit threats of operating in Nazi-occupied territory, Switzerland was proving to be ominous in unexpected ways. The paranoia she was experiencing reminded her of Berlin when she and Hannah didn’t know who was a Nazi informer in the boarding house.
Lizzie hung up her coat, slipped her aching feet out of her shoes, exhausted as the panic drained from her body, and sank onto the sofa.
Some minutes passed before she stood again and crossed the room to retrieve the secret package from her coat pocket.
Holding it in her hands like a precious gift, she turned it over several times and examined it.
She was almost fearful to open it in case the contents were a disappointment after the anticipation and her dramatic race to safety.
Deciding, she rested it on the table and padded into the kitchen to boil water for tea.
The view from the kitchen in the peaceful apartment showed lights twinkling across the city as night descended over Bern.
The hot, sugary tea coursed through Lizzie, comforting her as she reached for the package.
The waxed paper was soft and creased as she unfolded it carefully to reveal another sheet of paper inside.
It appeared to be a handwritten copy of a bank ledger.
It was dated 6 December 1938, and she scanned the details quickly and then again, more slowly.
The family name on the account was Rosenthal; their address was in Vienna, and they had made a cash deposit of 30,000 Swiss francs.
The initial entry was followed by several more, one detailing valuables, and others listing correspondence received from the family on various dates.
The last reference to correspondence from the family was dated late 1940.
Lizzie’s stomach dropped when she read the ominous banking note below. It simply said, Ohne Nachricht.
It was German for ‘without word.’ There was no trace of any follow-up correspondence from the bank, no notes on their trying to contact the family.
The Rosenthals’ account, which Lizzie guessed must have been opened in a desperate attempt to salvage what assets they could before Nazi confiscation following the Anschluss, the German annexation of Austria, was simply marked inactive.
Further down the page, there was an administrative note that said: Account fee, 75 Swiss francs.
A heaviness settled in Lizzie’s chest as the full weight of the events unfolded over her. Even as the bank knew Austrian Jews had been arrested or murdered, it was still charging them to hold their assets.
Only one question haunted her as she held the account ledger and read the entries again and again.
Had the Rosenthals escaped Vienna in time but not been able to claim the contents of their account?
Or were they deported with the rest of the Austrian Jews and sent east on trains to Nazi concentration camps?
It was now clear to all that the industrialised death camps were set up specifically to murder the Jewish population and anyone else who didn’t meet Germany’s racial purity criteria.
The warm mug in Lizzie’s hand did nothing to stop the chill that shook her whole body as she thought of Hannah’s family who had disappeared after Kristallnacht, and the other Jews she had helped the Resistance save during the past few years.
Lizzie’s face was wet, but she made no noise in her sorrow as she digested the continued horrors committed by the Nazi regime.
Then her mind settled on darling little Liesel, the Jewish girl who had been in hiding at the Berlin convent.
Tears rolled down her face faster now, and she rested the banking record of the missing family on the table.
This was her first piece of proof to send back to London to show that it was just as the Allies suspected.
Not only was the Swiss banking establishment collaborating with Germany in trade, but it also did nothing to help its victims. An all-consuming rage shook her to the core.
They were culpable in their silence, whilst keeping the missing Jewish family’s savings in their vault and continuing to charge them for the service.
Brunner had delivered proof that was damning to his bank, and Lizzie didn’t understand his motivation, but he must have his reasons. Whatever they were, her mission was to extract solid evidence that Swiss neutrality was a sham.
The copy of the ledger entries was a promising start, but it wasn’t enough.
Lizzie knew from Jack and Hannah that the British government was well aware of what was happening to Jews in the extermination camps but refused to allow more than a trickle into Mandatory Palestine or to allow more into Britain.
Hundreds of thousands of Jews were trapped in occupied Europe, with no way out.
The more she learnt about the plight of the Jews under British rule in their ancient homeland, the more ashamed she felt. The only saving grace was that Churchill, her hero, had repeatedly tried to overturn the White Paper in question, clashing with his cabinet, but they would not relent.
From London’s perspective, the main purpose of Lizzie’s mission was to find incontrovertible proof that the Swiss were laundering Nazi-looted gold and collaborating with the Germans to provide them with weapons and war materials, which would prolong the war.
That was what the Allies needed to intensify diplomatic pressure on Switzerland.
What else did Brunner have hidden in his bank vault?