Munich Signature (53 page)

“Steamers are such ghastly slow things, anyway. I simply got you a plane ticket to Prague. You can drop off the papers with Elisa’s family and three hours later catch another plane to Geneva. From there it’s a steamer on to Evian.”

Maybe this gruff man was not such a bad guy, after all. Yes, indeed, he knew his business. That thought made Murphy frown as a question entered his mind.

“You weren’t kidding when you said the Linders needed their passports as soon as possible, were you?”

Tedrick leveled a steely gaze on Murphy. “No, Mr. Murphy. The events in Czechoslovakia are nothing at all to joke about. Not that I’m an authority, but—” he reached for the newspaper next to him and pointed to a photograph of a long line of people waiting to receive instruction in the use of gas masks— “In Prague, of course, Hitler would not hesitate to use gas on the population if this comes to war. He considers the Czech race to be only one notch above the Jews. And of course, you know what he thinks of Jews.”

***

At Heathrow, Murphy sent wires first to Charles about Louis, and then to Hradcany Castle in Prague. The thought of an interview with the besieged Czech president was too good to pass up. There would be time, Murphy reasoned, after he stopped to give Theo and Anna the passports, for an hour with President Beneš. The little man still owed him a small favor.

***

The airfield outside Prague was a beehive of activity. Modern fighter planes were lined up along the tarmac and covered with camouflage netting. Murphy stepped from the passenger plane and strained his eyes to see if Theo might not be among the officers and men who congregated together by a Quonset hut.

He sighed loudly and inhaled the fresh air. It was a strange feeling to come back without Elisa by his side. He half expected to see her and little Charles, even though he had just left her in England. He shook himself back to reality as he noticed the fortifications all around the buildings. Gun emplacements. Searchlights. Anti-aircraft cannons on the far end of the field.

While the British and French had been talking about the defense of Czechoslovakia, President Beneš had been doing something about it. The images of such fortifications were at the same time terrifying and comforting. What Hitler coveted would not be easily stolen, Murphy thought as he flagged down a green taxi and gave the grim driver the address of the Linder house.

No one answered Murphy’s knock, so he pushed the door open and stepped in. He hardly recognized the little house of Mala Strana. There were people everywhere. The music room where he and Elisa had shared so many happy hours with Theo and Anna was now strewn with mattresses; a young mother sat nursing a baby while three other children played beside her. The magnificent piano was shoved off in the corner and covered with a quilt.

Two men excused themselves and walked quickly past Murphy in the hallway. He stopped long enough to peer into the room that had been his and Elisa’s. An old woman sat in the chair beside the window. An old man sat on the edge of the bed and read the latest reports in the Czech newspaper. A younger couple played cards at the foot of the bed and two toddlers scrambled back and forth in play.

The old woman looked up. “You are looking for someone?” she asked.

Murphy nodded, suddenly frightened that something had happened to Theo and Anna. “Yes. The Linder family.”

“Linder? Linder? A German name. We are mostly Czechs here in this house.”

“Anna and Theo Linder
own
this house!” Murphy exclaimed.

“Ah yes! Anna. You mean you are looking for Frau Anna!” The old woman laughed. No one else in the room even looked up. It was as if Murphy was not there. “Everyone is always looking for Anna!”

“I am her son-in-law. I have very little time here before I have to catch a plane.”

“Well, if that is the case, God bless you, Anna is down in the cellar with Bette, counting sacks of flour and bags of lentils.”

The cellar. Murphy scarcely remembered that the little house had a cellar. He hurried back down the corridor and through the kitchen where six peasant women tended steaming cauldrons of soup.

“Wait! Wait! Who are you? You can’t go into the cellar! Is he from the government? Hey you, come back here!”

The cellar. Murphy had guessed right. He threw open the door and clattered down the stone steps into the cold, musty-smelling cubicle. Anna stood beneath a bare lightbulb, a clipboard in her hand. Her hair was tied back in a scarf like the women who called after him in the kitchen. Her face was intense with thought.

“At least another ton of lentils,” she was saying to the plump, broad-faced woman who examined the sack in the corner.

Murphy waited politely on the bottom step. Anna checked her figures once again. She must have sensed his presence because she looked up, then back down, and then her eyes widened and she dropped the clipboard as she whirled around. “John! Oh, John, you are here! God is good!”

They were both laughing now. “Anna, Anna!” Murphy embraced her with relief. “I was beginning to think you had already fled the country!”

“Is Elisa with you?” Her eyes were bright with emotion.

“In London.”

“Thank God. I would not want her here now. You can see—”

They walked arm in arm up the steps and then she led him through the crowd of strangers, stopping to introduce him to each one in turn. At last she led him up the steep stairs to the attic where she had moved some personal things to make a place for herself.

***

The British passports lay on the sagging bed. Anna absently traced the embossed emblem with her finger. “We had almost given up, you see,” Anna said wearily. “Weeks ago we were notified of the rejection of our visas by the American consulate.”

“Weeks?” How could this be? Murphy had placed himself as sponsor, and he had not been notified.

“And then I got Elisa’s letter saying that it would be all well. She had contacts in London who were arranging for the passports—and here they are. God is good to us!” But there was a hesitance in her words. “It’s just that there are so many others now . . . More every day. Most of the men who are able have dug in on the front. But you can see what has happened here in Prague. We are expecting the worst. Preparing for the worst and trying to live day by day.”

“Theo and the boys?” Murphy asked, feeling that it was crucial that plane tickets be purchased immediately. “You can join Elisa in London?”

Anna shook her head slowly. She absently flipped open the cover of first one document and then the next. “They are at an airfield near Eger. They won’t come, John. Not until the last fortification of Czechoslovakia is smashed. Theo is committed. He believes that the Nazis must be held here, or—”

“Right.” Murphy needed no further explanation. “Theo and Churchill would get along nicely together.”

“But at least we will have these—just in case.”

“Anna, you can go. You must. Come with me to Evian, and then we will go back to London together. Elisa needs you.”

She smiled a sad, wise smile, and Murphy thought what a beautiful woman she was. How much like her Elisa would be someday! “Elisa does not need me. She is safe. She has you, John. My husband needs me to be here when he comes home. And my sons, Wilhelm and Dieter. And then there are all these others. There is so much yet to do. And I must stay here to do it.” She took his hand. “But tell Elisa we are just fine. Tell her I have the passports kept very safe and close at hand in case we must fly away.” She laughed at herself, at her foolishness for turning down such an offer. “Evian. The French resort of Geneva. Theo and I went there on our fifteenth anniversary. Ah, me, how very far away such elegance seems now from the real world of Prague!”

Murphy could hear the clamor of voices and smell the aromas of the soup kettles. Yes, Evian seemed very far away from reality indeed. “I have to go. You’re sure?”

“Quite sure. My place is here.” Her eyes clouded now at the thought of Elisa. “Tell her I love her, will you?” She stood and tucked the passports beneath her mattress. “And tell her we’ll be together again soon. She must not worry.”

Anna escorted Murphy down three stories from the garret, out among the busy women who worked to prepare for the evening meal. Murphy hugged Anna on the front step and then as he neared the corner, he turned for one last look. Anna stood with her hands on her hips, joking and giving orders in alternate breaths as long tables on the sidewalk were laden with food.

***

Sandbags and trenches were everywhere in Prague. Sacks of sand surrounded the statue of St. Nepomuk on the Charles Bridge. Candles burned before the sandbags. Windows were taped and boarded up in the shops of Old Town. The windows of hotels and businesses were covered with black cloth.

Murphy caught a trolley car crowded with Czechs who scanned the newspapers and angrily discussed Hitler’s ultimatum. These people were strong and indignant, Murphy thought. They would fight for their freedom if they were called to do so!

Stepping from the trolley in front of Hradcany Castle, Murphy shook his head in wonder at the changes Hitler’s threats had brought. Where once the lights of thousands of candles had beckoned him and Elisa to the castle, now sandbags and armed guards were everywhere. Every window had been carefully blacked out. Even the window of President Beneš’s office.

Soldiers challenged him as he walked toward the entrance. “I am John Murphy. American journalist. I wired President Beneš of my arrival in Prague. He is expecting me.”

Someone recognized the name. The American who had saved the life of the president. First one officer was called and then another, and finally the face of the colonel who had been wounded appeared.

The colonel did not smile, although he seemed glad to see Murphy. The man looked visibly aged and not nearly so splendid as he had in his dress uniform the night at the ball.

“Come in, come in.” He opened the bronze door for Murphy as if he were inviting him for coffee. But inside the marbled hallway, grim and worried men hurried from one office to another. “President Beneš mentioned you would come today,” he said. “Of course, the schedule is full. We are, you may see, on a full-war footing. Ready for what may come.” He was walking quickly toward the back staircase that led to the private offices of Beneš.

On the first landing Murphy stopped him. “I will not intrude,” Murphy said, putting a hand on the officer’s arm. He was throwing away the scoop of a lifetime, but there was a sense of importance here that did not allow the thought of an interview to be taken seriously. “This is not a social call.” Murphy pulled out a white envelope from his coat pocket. “I came first of all to wish President Beneš—all of you—” Murphy stopped, feeling trite and foolish. “I am praying for you,” he finished. “And I came to ask a favor.” He handed the envelope to the officer. “It is explained very briefly. You will see that he gets it?”

The officer clicked his heels and bowed slightly. “Gladly.” Then he smiled. “We are men besieged, Mr. Murphy—hardly in a position to grant favors now.” He laughed bitterly. “But I will give our president your letter, certainly.”

“I can find my way out. Long life!” Murphy spoke the words of Czech farewell, and as he said them, he hoped they were true.

35

Closed Doors

***

Elisa lay back on the bed of her darkly furnished Left Bank Paris hotel room. She could see her image in the dim mirror of the dresser. Short hair. Serious eyes.
I look years older,
she mused.
Weary, and even frightened.

It was hard to believe that less than eighteen hours ago she had been with Murphy, but then everything seemed to be moving so fast. They had been away from a radio for only three days and when they surfaced, the news was startling. Hitler had demanded the evacuation of all Czechs from the Sudetenland. They were to take nothing with them—not furniture or livestock or weapons!

Of course, Elisa knew that multiple thousands had already fled to Prague from the territories even before Hitler’s ultimatum. But this Diktat from the Führer made the situation seem all the more ominous.

Elisa rolled over and switched on the radio, turning the knob until the voice of the BBC crackled into the room. She did not want to hear news. Tedrick had filled her in with information that she was certain was so explosive that not even the BBC would know of it. Her assignment was to meet with Thomas, find out if Hitler’s ultimatum against the Czech citizens in the Sudetenland was the certain indication that an invasion was on.