Chapter 36
In the oppressive climate with tightening security in Berlin, Lizzie didn’t risk meeting with Ingrid Becker again, and they had to rely on Hannah reaching her within the ministry, which was unpredictable.
The brave analyst had passed them several more documents, and Hildegard hadn’t wavered under Lizzie’s scrutiny.
The earlier courier drops had been made as scheduled, and Hildegard said she was happy to see her mother in Bern more frequently.
Lizzie asked if the change disgruntled her manager, who usually made the trip, but she said he was anything but.
He didn’t like leaving his young family in Berlin for extended periods, so it had worked out well.
The supervisor started passing Ingrid’s documents to another typist, and Hannah had no viable reason to go into the source’s department.
When Hannah told Lizzie, she said, ‘Do you think you are under suspicion?’
Hannah considered the question. ‘Everyone is under suspicion all the time, but I don’t think she suspects me in particular.’
Lizzie released a sigh of relief. ‘We need to get out soon and not push our luck. Get what more you can from her as soon as possible. We must have the exact location coordinates of the weapon facility so the Allies can destroy it when the time is right.’
After several frustrating attempts to exchange words in the cafeteria, Ingrid met with Hannah in the toilets after lunch, where she hurriedly passed her a folded document which Hannah shoved inside her brassiere. She would transfer it into her shoe heel later when she was alone.
As they ran the taps in the sink and washed their hands, Ingrid whispered, ‘There are eyes everywhere. I feel like I’m being watched all the time. I can’t keep doing this. It’s far too dangerous. Just this morning I heard they are organising inspections of staff in all the government ministries.’
Hannah asked, ‘Did you give me all you have?’
Ingrid’s face was creased with worry lines as she looked at Hannah in the mirror. ‘Yes, it’s the coordinates you asked for, as well as details of the latest developments.’
‘Brilliant,’ Hannah said.
‘My daughter is heavily pregnant and there are complications. I can’t endanger my family any further,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You have nothing to be sorry for. You have been outstanding.’
Hannah glanced at her watch and saw she had been gone too long.
There wasn’t time to transfer the document to her shoe now, so she would have to do it before she left the building.
Waiting for Ingrid to leave the toilets, she exited next and returned to her workstation.
They were as busy as ever, and Hannah still hadn’t found an opportunity to return to the filing room to check for Henry’s personal effects.
She was coming to terms with the fact that he was gone, and she would never see him again, but it made it seem even more important to retrieve whatever she could from his belongings.
Her undercover lifestyle since her family was arrested meant she was constantly on the move after leading dangerous Resistance sabotage operations in France.
She had few personal possessions and mementos from her childhood or youth.
More recently, she had been based in the south of France and had allowed herself the luxury of keeping a few personal items at home, but she couldn’t risk having a photo of a British airman.
In France, during the years moving between different locations, she had set up some secret places beneath floorboards and in concealed compartments in walls, and she planned to retrieve whatever she could of her scant possessions when the war was over, but it wasn’t much to show for the life of a young woman.
Hannah vowed to find a way into Henry’s file before the mission was over, when she must slip silently away from her fake life as a war widow in Berlin.
The afternoon grew late, as Hannah typed reams of Air Ministry letters, and she remembered she must get back to the toilets to remove the incriminating paper from her brassiere.
She’d left it there for the time being, as no one checked her clothes in the daily searches, never mind her underwear, so she thought it was relatively safe.
But she couldn’t risk leaving the building like that, and now she cursed under her breath that she’d left it so late.
Just as Hannah rose from her table, the familiar sound of the supervisor’s desk bell echoed around the typing pool. Every head lifted, and immediate silence fell across the room as she stood to address the secretaries.
‘Attention! We have learnt there are potential spies in Berlin who aim to undermine the Reich. For this reason, you will now all present your belongings and yourselves for full inspection.’
Hannah’s chest constricted as she realised, she had made a fatal error and was on the brink of being exposed.
The supervisor scanned the circle of frightened faces before her. ‘I need not remind you—loyal servants of the Reich have nothing to fear, and this is simply a routine inspection.’
It didn’t sound routine to Hannah, and since she’d worked there, she had not experienced a thorough inspection inside the building.
She glanced down at her chest and was relieved the hidden paper hadn’t shifted in her brassiere and wasn’t visible through her blouse.
As three men who were obviously Gestapo entered the typing pool, Hannah berated herself again for not switching the paper to her shoe when she had the chance.
The Gestapo saluted and chanted Heir Hitler and the women echoed the chant back to them and saluted in unison. It was sickening to watch, and Hannah’s stomach turned as she raised her arm and spoke the hateful words.
Then one of the Gestapo instructed them in a nasal voice to be seated at their tables so they could begin the inspection.
The senior officer stood at the front of the room, near the supervisor, watching the inspection from a distance, and Hannah felt his eyes on her.
Her skin was clammy, and her pulse hammered as she tried to stay composed while the men moved past the rows of tables towards her.
If she were caught now, she would never forgive herself.
They would trace the intelligence back to poor Ingrid, and they would arrest Lizzie within a few hours.
It would all be her fault for being sloppy.
She didn’t even want to imagine Jack’s face when he discovered, if he discovered, exactly how they were exposed.
A man with round glasses and a face like a rat neared her, making her squirm.
Before he reached her, one woman who had already turned out her pockets, had the contents of her bag rifled through on the table and her drawers searched, was ordered from the room to be searched more thoroughly by a female guard who stepped forward to escort her out.
Hannah shivered. She must avoid a full-body search at all costs, but even if she struck the guard and escaped, they knew her address at the boarding house.
She and Lizzie had discussed how giving their actual address to the authorities was a liability in their plan, should things go wrong, but there was no other way.
Surrounded by Nazi party loyalists as they were in Berlin, the risk of giving a false address was high, and they had to register a valid address at the police station after their arrival.
Rat-man sneered at Hannah and then ordered her to empty her belongings from her pockets and drawers onto the table. His hands pawed her few personal items, and then he scanned her papers and turned his attention to her documents.
‘Else Weber. What brings you all the way to our beautiful capital city from Alsace, Frau Weber?’
Hannah recited her war widow, ethnic German story by rote, and the man studied her before checking her documents again. ‘Ah, Volksdeutsche. Commendable, Frau.’
Hannah released a slow breath. As long as they didn’t search her underwear, they would all be safe. He seemed satisfied and was about to move on when suddenly her bag caught his eye, and he pointed to it. ‘Empty the contents and pass it over to me. I said we must search all your personal items.’
Hannah noted how the vile little man seemed to relish the inspection, and anger flooded her body as it so often did when she came face to face with an enthusiastic Nazi.
She mentally ran through an inventory of anything she had that could get her singled out.
There was her knife, but it was sewn into the secret compartment of her coat.
She had learnt that trick from Lizzie, and Lev had seen to it for her before she left.
Her pockets were checked every time she entered and left the building, so she wasn’t concerned about the small knife.
As he ran his tobacco-stained fingers over her handkerchief and purse, she shuddered.
‘Something bothering you, Frau?’ he asked, fixing her with his cold eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
Hannah summoned a weak, conciliatory smile. This was not the time to let her emotions take control of her responses. ‘No, Herr Inspektor. I am thankful you are so diligent in keeping us safe.’
The inspector seemed mollified by her praise, but turned back to her handbag.
He patted the interior pockets and methodically checked them one by one.
As Hannah watched him, a dreadful realisation struck her.
After visiting her old apartment, she had hidden her mother’s scarf in her clothes at the boarding house; she wore the gold necklace around her neck and planned to say it was a wedding gift from her husband if questioned, but she had not hidden the family photographs.
She had deliberated whether to keep them in their room or on her, and had concluded it was safer in her bag, considering what they knew about the landlady and Herr Vogel.
Lizzie and Hannah were scrupulous about what they left in the room and believed it was searched regularly.
They always left a thread on the door, and Lizzie had found it displaced several times, which confirmed their suspicions.
Hannah watched his hands probing her bag as if in slow motion while fear shot through her veins.
‘Who is this?’ he said, producing one of the family photographs. Her parents, and Jacob and Ruthi, were in it with her.
Hannah swallowed, but the lump in her throat remained as she tried to fight the rising panic.
‘I asked who this is,’ he barked.
His bullying tone spurred her into action, and she reminded herself she was Hannah Stein, codenamed Angel. Several high-ranking Nazis had met a gruesome end at her hands. This little man would not be her undoing.
Hannah cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders.
Bullies hated people who stood up to them, and from experience she knew she must strike the right balance between strength and respect, or she would find herself escorted out to be strip-searched like two of the others who had left the room trembling.
‘This is a photo of my family, Herr Inspektor. I keep it with me to comfort me when I am homesick. It is very lonely since the enemy killed my husband.’
The inspector studied the photograph for a full minute.
Could he tell they were Jewish? They weren’t dressed in any way that would reveal it.
The photograph was taken before the despicable yellow star was enforced, and her family wasn’t orthodox.
They dressed like other middle-class German citizens, but her mother had a darker complexion than her husband.
The black-and-white photograph didn’t reveal the colour of their hair.
If her blonde hair had been obvious, she would have left the photograph in the secret stash even though it would have broken her heart.
As she waited for his response, she concluded it was only their family name that was an outward sign they were Jewish, and he didn’t know what that was.
It seemed like an eternity before the inspector laid the photograph on the table. His eyes ran over Hannah once more before he said, ‘A fine Aryan family. Thank you for your cooperation, Frau Weber.’
Relief rushed over her, but she must keep herself steady even though her legs were weak. This was the response she should expect if she had nothing to hide. She repeated the well-known propaganda in her head: Nothing to hide, nothing to fear.
Then she bestowed a charming smile on the rat-like Gestapo inspector, even as her heart clapped like thunder in her chest. ‘Thank you, Inspector. Heil Hitler.’
The Gestapo completed the thorough inspection, and the two women who had been strip-searched were permitted to return to the typing pool.
One of them was shaking and ashen and hung her head in shame as though it were in some way her fault that she had been selected.
The other had angry red spots on her pale cheeks, and her eyes were resentful.
It made Hannah fume even more. The bastards had humiliated the women, but at least they weren’t under suspicion.
If someone were suspected of being a traitor, they wouldn’t be released.
Hannah exited the building that evening, the secret paper still nestled in her brassiere and the two remaining Stein family photographs tucked away in the compartment of her handbag.