Chapter 18 The Gestapo
The Gestapo
Berlin
Helene wasn’t sure if it was a typical interrogation technique, but that afternoon the SS officers left her alone in an empty
office and did not bother her. It was cold, she had no coat, she was very hungry, and she had to go to the bathroom badly.
But she was more or less okay. At least she no longer felt sick to her stomach and was strangely calm.
On the one hand, she hoped that Derek’s boss could intercede for her. She did not know what the Gestapo had against her, but
the things Kummer described did not sound that condemnable to Helene. They were vague accusations, just technicalities and
infractions—nothing concretely damaging.
Her first thought was that the Secret Library had been discovered, but then she thought better of that idea. If they had found
it, surely they would have taken her there and forced a confession.
“They don’t have anything on me,” she said aloud, to convince herself.
The hours passed. Helene eventually fell asleep. Every so often she heard the sound of footsteps or far-off screams of terror—the side of the regime no one wanted to acknowledge.
A noise close by brought her fully awake. Helene realized it was getting light outside. She went to the window and was startled
to see it faced the Secret Library. Before she could dwell on the irony, the door opened.
“Helene, I hope you’ve been able to rest.”
She heard the sound of rubber boots on the floor, and the stench of bad breath wafted toward her. She met Kummer’s eyes evenly
in the attempt to feign confidence. In reality, she was petrified with fear.
“I need to go to the bathroom, and I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning.”
“All in good time. Sit down!”
She obeyed, and Kummer sat on the other side of the wooden desk. It was rough and commonplace, characteristic of the Nazis,
who had little appreciation for beauty.
“Well, well,” he said, pulling a gray folder out of a drawer. He studied the contents for a moment and then looked up.
Helene again met his eyes and, in her coolest tone possible, said, “What are you accusing me of? I haven’t done anything.”
Kummer sat silent and impassive.
Helene continued, “If I can’t work in the library, you can fire me like you’ve done with others.”
“You know, my dear Helene, we’re all going to die sooner or later.
My parents died when I was still young. It was rough, but life goes on.
I was an angry boy, enraged with the world.
Nothing made any sense until I met Hitler.
” He stood and moved closer to her. “He wasn’t like he is now.
He wore cheap clothing, he didn’t look as intimidating, and he still occasionally stuttered.
But there was something magnetic about him, you see.
‘He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him . . .’”
Helene recognized the quote from the book of the prophet Isaiah, the description of the Man of Sorrows.
Kummer went on. “We had lost the war, the Bolsheviks had taken over countless places, and Germany was adrift. Hitler was like
a prophet in the desert. It cost him dearly to get to where he is now. How could he have made it, if his ascension were not
predestined?”
When it was clear that his question was not rhetorical, Helene responded, “It’s best for me to keep my opinion to myself.”
She was dying to go to the bathroom.
“Just look at what he’s accomplished in two years. Order, progress, stability. And we’ve won the respect of the nations of
the world. But you wouldn’t understand . . .”
“Because I’m half-Jew?” Helen asked defiantly.
Kummer put his hands on his hips and smiled. “I don’t believe in that sort of foolishness. Jews are just like the rest of
humanity. But they’ve twisted their religion, and with their ideas have weakened Germany and the whole world. No, you don’t
have faith for other reasons.”
Kummer pulled a book off a shelf and threw it onto the desk. A cloud of dust billowed up on impact.
“That’s all that you believe in. I understand you because I was like you.
After my parents died, books saved me. They kept me going.
But don’t be deceived. They’re just paper, ink, and cardboard.
We wrap them in leather covers to make them appear more valuable.
But they’re just instruction manuals, shopping catalogs, and useful fire starters.
” As he talked, Kummer’s voice undulated with near fanatical euphoria.
“Are you trying to save me?” Helene asked, impatient for him to get on with whatever he was about.
“Save? There is no salvation for mankind, madam. We are mere animals playing at being gods. If I’ve learned anything from
Hitler, it’s that only the strong survive and that the only heaven awaiting us is here on earth.”
“I follow you, but you’re not saying anything too different from what Marx said.”
“Well, it’s not all wrong: historic materialism, Nietzsche’s vision of the superman, ridding ourselves of God’s moral oversight.
But that’s not the most important thing.” Kummer sat back down.
Helene obliged with the expected response. “And what’s the most important thing?”
“I see you like to get to the point. Well, I’ll be clear. Books are dangerous. They make people think for themselves, have
dreams, and believe in something. We are the only ones they should believe. I’m the guardian of wisdom, the one with the key
to lock things up and keep people out. Socrates’s world of ideas, the idea of eternity, the Judeo-Christian conscience—they’ve
all turned us into slaves. It’s time to wake up, to call forth the wild man, to change the world. People like you get in the
way of this mission. Most people don’t even wonder why they’re here. They just survive turn after turn of the hamster wheel.”
Helene held his gaze even in the pause between speeches. After a few minutes, Kummer resumed speaking.
“Your time is up. Someone denounced you, and we have some proof. You’ll be sent to a camp while awaiting trial.
There you’ll be reeducated. I doubt it’ll be successful, but when you feel the fear deep in your body, you’ll stop causing problems. Then leave Germany, if you can, and take your family with you. Jewish rats.”
“Can I go to the bathroom now?” was all that Helene offered by way of response.
Kummer burst out laughing and led her to the lavatory. He waited outside the door and lit a cigarette, laughing at the inferno
that was waiting for Helene. Soon she would understand. And she would never be the same.