Chapter 42
It would be Hannah’s last day at the Reich Air Ministry and all going to plan, her last night in Berlin.
Her relationship with her hometown was painful.
When she passed buildings and landmarks, she had known all her life, there was a stirring of nostalgia, and happy memories of her childhood sometimes rose to the surface, but the chain of events that had followed meant a blanket of misery suffocated those memories and she was constantly reminded this was no longer her home.
Thoughts of Henry mingled with those of her family, and she only managed to keep herself buoyant by focusing on the importance of the mission.
Henry could not have died in vain battling the Luftwaffe and she was committed to making his sacrifice count by extracting the critical intelligence on Hitler’s secret weapons that London needed.
In the canteen at lunchtime, she caught Ingrid’s eye, and they exchanged a knowing look.
It usually meant the analyst had something for her.
Hannah had held true to her promise and made it less dangerous for Ingrid by always being the one to smuggle the secrets out of the building, and today would be no different.
Hannah pretended to drop something and search for it on the floor. As Ingrid drew level with her in the queue, she whispered she would meet her at the small table in the corner.
Ingrid reached the table first and Hannah hurried to join her before someone else took the other seat.
They didn’t talk as it was important no one suspected they were connected.
Soon it would be clear that Hannah wasn’t returning after the funeral, and it would go one of two ways.
The supervisor would realise something suspicious was afoot and would order an investigation into Hannah in which case anyone who had contact of any kind with her would be questioned.
Or, and this was the option Hannah and Lizzie were hoping for, the supervisor would put her absence down to another irregularity of wartime and mark her absence as her deciding to stay in Alsace.
It wasn’t such a stretch and that would mean no one would be in the line of fire, but Hannah wouldn’t endanger Ingrid by risking being seen talking to her.
Ingrid concentrated on her lunch, and Hannah did the same until she felt Ingrid nudge her leg beneath the table. Hannah continued spooning the lukewarm stew into her mouth, and with the other she grasped the folded piece of paper and shoved it into the waistband of her skirt.
The entire exchange took only a minute, and as Hannah finished eating, in between mouthfuls with her head dipped over the plate, she said, ‘This will be the last time you see me. Thank you for all you have done. The offer remains intact for you if you change your mind.’
Ingrid Becker didn’t look at her, but she too bowed her head and whispered her thanks and wished Hannah good luck. A few seconds later, Ingrid stood and left the canteen without looking back.
Hannah wondered what the unexpected piece of intelligence was.
It must be important, or Ingrid wouldn’t have risked passing it to her in public.
Lizzie would be pleased, and Hannah looked forward to reading it with her later in the attic to see whether they could understand its meaning.
Some of the information had been barely intelligible to them, but they were confident that in the right hands it would deliver what Britain needed to know about the development of the German weapons.
Hannah had planned only to pass Lizzie’s last message to Ingrid but now she had critical information to carry with her for the rest of the day.
It made the stakes even higher, and she calculated whether she should risk sneaking into the filing room.
As this was her last day, she had planned to look at Henry’s personal effects and take them with her if she could.
The thought of leaving anything of his in a Nazi filing cabinet that was within her reach, left a sour taste in her mouth.
As she sat at the small table in the canteen weighing up the risks and finishing her lunch, a pair of shiny black boots entered her eyeline, and an SS officer sat down opposite her.
Hannah recognised the diamond insignia on his sleeve that identified him as Security Service.
These were the bastards who kept tabs on ministry workers and investigated those they suspected of misconduct.
A mouthful of stew lodged in her throat as she struggled to swallow in her rising panic, and she regretted not leaving after Ingrid.
Now she had attracted attention to herself at the worst possible time.
‘Guten Tag, Fr?ulein,’ he said, his tone arrogant yet polite as he rested his peaked cap with the SS death's head insignia on the table between them.
Hannah corrected him in a neutral tone. ‘Frau.’
He nodded and started eating.
She mustn’t show signs of alarm but was conscious of the damning intelligence that nestled at her waistband.
She must get away without seeming to be in a rush, and the hard paper pressed against her skin as she beseeched the powers that be that it wouldn’t dislodge when she stood up.
The thought of it falling out of her skirt was a dreadful one, and for a few seconds the fear of being discovered paralysed her, and she couldn’t move.
Not one to let fear dictate her actions, she quickly recovered her composure and addressed the officer whose SS runes on his right collar tab and swastika armband reminded her with every move of the immense danger she was in.
Hannah’s heart thumped erratically, but somehow she conducted a polite conversation with the devil, where they talked about the weather.
‘Transport will come to a complete standstill if the snow continues falling again today,’ he said, pointing out the window.
That was one more thing for Hannah to worry about, and now, turning her head towards the window, she saw snow was falling heavily.
It was becoming a real possibility they wouldn’t be able to board the train to Stuttgart tonight, even if she made it through this terrifying day at the ministry.
Hannah stood and excused herself. She had distanced herself slightly and was about to cross the room when his commanding voice sliced through the buzz of the canteen conversation. ‘Sit back down, please.’
Hannah turned to face him, the blood rushing to her head until she felt dizzy. ‘Forgive me, mein Herr, but my workload is heavy, and I must return to my post.’ She glanced at her watch.
For several seconds, the SS officer studied Hannah before he gave a curt nod.
‘Very well. It’s not every day I get to sit with such a pretty girl in the canteen.
I wished merely to prolong the pleasure, but if you are doing your duty, I commend you.
Perhaps we may meet another day and have lunch together? ’
Hannah arranged her lips into a smile, and she agreed they might do that.
Forcing herself to move slowly through the canteen, by the time she reached the door, she wanted to run and hide the paper in her shoe heel but that would be a mistake, so she walked sedately out the door and along the marble corridor to the toilets.
Calm and steady was the trick to staying alive in situations like these, she reminded herself.
She entered the toilets and closed the cubicle behind her, slumping against the door, her heart still pumping fast and her head pounding.
She checked the compartment in her heel and saw there was no room to fit the new piece of paper.
She hadn’t transferred the previous one to a hiding place in the attic because of her paranoia about Herr Vogel and the landlady spying on them.
There were two more obstacles for her to tackle before her goals for the day were complete.
Glancing at her watch again, she saw it was approaching the time she must return to the typing pool, but if she didn’t do it now, she would miss her last chance.
The building would be too busy when she left for the day and the filing room would be locked then, anyway.
Hannah inhaled deeply as she exited the cubicle, washed her hands, and patted cold water onto her cheeks.
The near miss in the canteen, flustered her, but allowing it to show on her face could spell disaster.
She had to keep up her cover as efficient Frau Else Weber, and she had about five minutes to take what she wanted from the filing room.
Making up her mind, she headed in that direction and, after checking over her shoulder, pushed the door handle and slipped into the cool room.
As she had hoped, the filing clerks were at lunch, and the room was empty.
Locking it behind her would be an admission of guilt, so she rushed over to the cabinet that contained Henry’s records, and within a minute her hands touched the file.
She flicked through it until she found what she had glimpsed last time.
Listening for approaching footsteps, a voice whispered in her head that she was risking the weapons’ intelligence, but she wasn’t doing this purely for personal reasons.
Her fingers searched the envelope marked ‘Henry King’ and something slipped through her fingers and fluttered to the ground where it lay next to her shoe.
Hannah reached down to retrieve it and turned it over.
As she had feared, there was the photograph of them together that Henry had carried with him.
In his letters, he said she was his angel, and she watched over him when he flew so he always kept the photograph close to his heart.
She couldn’t hide it in her handbag which was now routinely searched when she left the building.
Sometimes it was a cursory look inside, and at other times all the contents were emptied as the duty guard combed through her personal items.
Her now-dead fiancé looked as dashing in the photograph as the day she met him in France.
The only difference was that he proudly wore his RAF uniform as their happy faces smiled at the camera.
Hannah tucked the black-and-white picture inside her brassiere.
It would crumple the only photograph she had of them together, but if it fell into the wrong hands during the security check, it would mean certain death.
Hannah shoved the file back into the cabinet and raced for the door, just as one of the filing clerks entered.
‘Else. What brings you here?’ she said, her words sharp. ‘No one is supposed to be in here without special authority.’
‘I know, I know,’ Hannah said, scrambling for a valid excuse. ‘Please don’t tell on me. I did something foolish a few weeks ago and lost an expensive earring. I’ve searched everywhere for it with no luck. It just occurred to me I may have dropped it in here when I was covering for you.’
The clerk’s face took on an expression of empathy. ‘Oh dear, that is too bad. Did you find it?’
Hannah shook her head slowly. ‘Unfortunately, no. I think it must be gone forever,’ she said, sniffing and pulling a sad face.
‘Describe it to me in case it turns up in one of the cabinets,’ the clerk said.
Hannah described an imaginary gold earring and thanked the heavens that inspiration had come to her at the right second, and the young woman believed her story.
‘Have a good rest of your day,’ Hannah called to her as she reached the door. ‘And thank you again for your help.’
Hannah reached her table in the typing pool exactly one minute late, and the supervisor cast her a stern look. ‘If you’re late again, there will be severe consequences,’ she threatened.
Hannah looked suitably chastened as relief flooded through her whole body, and she resumed typing Nazi documents.
If the train left the station tonight, this would be her last contribution to the Reich’s evil administration.
When it was time to leave, Hannah said goodbye to the supervisor whom she had already advised that morning about her impending absence for the funeral.
‘Have a safe trip. You have my condolences,’ she said, bowing her head.
Just as Lizzie and Hannah had estimated, a funeral of a close relative was important to attend even by the German regime’s standards.
Hannah closed her empty desk drawer for the last time and tidied her desk.
There could be no trace of Frau Weber at the Air Ministry when they realised she wasn’t coming back.
Especially not her photograph with the handsome British RAF pilot who had been shot down over Stuttgart and given his life fighting the Third Reich.
Hannah’s handbag was given only a swift check that evening by the guard who had a soft spot for her. ‘How about that drink, Else?’
‘I’m sorry, but I must attend my former mother-in-law’s funeral and will be away for a while.’
He too offered his condolences, and Hannah marvelled at the way the formal niceties of German society lumbered on as though they weren’t responsible for the industrial slaughter of Jews and anyone who dared oppose the Reich.
Hannah crossed the road and took what she desperately hoped would be her last look at the Air Ministry building.
As she walked, she took comfort in the tapping of her heel, which contained Hitler’s new weapons intelligence.
It could change the outcome of the war and save millions of innocent lives.
The photograph of her and Henry brushed against the tender flesh of her breast, and the latest piece of paper from Ingrid was tucked securely into her waistband.
She exhaled, slowly releasing the tension that had built up through her various daring actions that afternoon.
There was nothing left for her in Berlin, the city of Nazis.