The Children's War (40 page)

The servant looked at Karl in confusion.

Karl turned to his guests and apologized. “He’s slow-witted, I’m sorry. But they all are. It’s the impure blood.” He turned back toward the servant and said very slowly, “We’ve given you a place in this society, isn’t that right?”

The servant nodded. “Yes. I am very grateful to Herr and Frau Vogel for providing me with meaningful employment.”

“And for keeping you on the path of righteousness,” Frau Vogel added.

“Yes,” the servant agreed. “And for keeping me on a righteous path.” Beate nodded, satisfied.

“I grew up in England as well,” Karl said, turning the conversation back to a topic with which he was comfortable. “Though, of course, I’m pure German!”

“You did?” Richard asked. Chiding himself for wasting time on trivialities, he dismissed the servant from his mind and focused on Karl. “Where?”

“London of course! My father was in the colonial government. What about you?”

“I was raised there as well,” Richard admitted reluctantly. “That’s why I can speak a bit of English.”

“I can’t,” Karl bragged.“Not a word! Stupid language. Idiotic spellings. Totally illogical structure.”

Richard nodded. “So, you grew up there. Where did you go to school?”

From that point on, the discussion centered around Karl’s youth. Richard was the truly interested guest, asking questions and refraining from offering too many of his own opinions. Karl was in his element. Eventually the conversation turned to other topics, and they relocated to the sitting room. They were served drinks, and then Karl motioned to the servant. “Clean up the dishes, then you can leave.”

“Where’s he going?” Richard asked as the servant left the room.

“Oh, he’s working the night shift at a local factory. I get some money out of his worthless hide that way. Clever, isn’t it?”

Richard nodded. “Yes, very. Be careful though.”

“Why?”

“Well, certainly you know, if you rent out one of your laborers for more than a week or two, the Labor Ministry is likely to reevaluate your need for that laborer. It has been known to happen that a contracted laborer is seized and reassigned to someone with a greater need.”

“I didn’t know that!” Karl breathed in horror.

Elspeth cast a worried look toward the kitchen. “Stop him!” she whispered.

“A few weeks, you say?” Karl asked.

Richard nodded. “It’s in the regulations. I can show you tomorrow if you wish. It’s also, no doubt, among all the papers you signed.”

Karl stood suddenly. “Excuse me. I have to make a phone call.”

Ten minutes later he emerged from his study and went into the kitchen. “You are not to go to the factory tonight. That’s finished.”

Peter was standing at the back door, his pass in hand, ready to leave. He looked down at the pass, at the month stamped onto it. September. It used to say May, he thought.

“Do you understand?” Karl asked in clearly pronounced syllables.

Whatever happened to June? July? August?

“I said, do you understand?”

“I am not to go to the factory tonight,” Peter repeated numbly. “That’s finished.”

“That’s right,” Karl said almost gently. “That’s right.”

Karl turned to leave.

“Mein Herr.”

“What?”

“Thank you,
mein Herr,”
Peter said with heartfelt sincerity. “Thank you.”

Karl nodded his head curtly in acknowledgment.

43

T
HERE WAS A COLD,
driving rain. Richard had his arm protectively wrapped around Beate’s shoulders, and she huddled against him to shelter under his
umbrella as they stood in the doorway to ring the Schindlers’ bell. Richard had spent some considerable time in her presence, and they had become quite close. During the day, with a charming, boyish grin, he had explained how he sometimes inadvertently made insensitive remarks and he would dearly like to avoid such mistakes with his new acquaintance Schindler. Beate was understanding, she often had the same trouble, she admitted, and she had helpfully opened the personnel file for Herr Schindler just to ease their evening’s conversation.

They had learned much about his career. They had also learned he was on his third wife. His first wife had given him two daughters, both in their midthirties, both married and living in the Western Reich. After being divorced, his first wife had moved back to Bavaria. With his second wife, he had one, unmarried son, who was twenty-five and worked in a special branch of the army. “That boy applied to be my aide,” Richard had confided to Beate.

Schindler’s current wife was named Greta, and she was only a few years older than his daughters. She had been born in Switzerland of a German diplomat and his Swiss wife, and judging from the fact that their marriage papers were filed the day after Schindler’s second divorce was finalized, Richard and Beate surmised that she had schemed long and hard to reach her current position. “I’ve heard about her,” Beate had whispered. “She’s mean as hell if she thinks you’re her inferior—and that’s what she thinks of all us working gals, but for the men in the office, she’s always charming.”

“Maybe she’s looking for someone with more promise than her husband,” Richard had suggested.

“Well,” Beate had replied, wrapping her arm around him, “tell her you’re taken!”

A young lad opened the door for them. He had pale skin, brown hair, and the slack mouth and vacant stare common to peoples who have lived isolated in the hills for too long. He announced their presence and, after taking their coats and umbrella, led them into the parlor.

When the two of them stepped into the parlor, they were greeted not only by Herr Schindler and his wife but by Karl and Elspeth as well. “What a wonderful surprise!” Richard remarked, and turning toward Frau Vogel, added, “Always a pleasure!”

He greeted Frau Schindler with charming deference, kissing her hand and adding, “You know, in Göringstadt, it is the custom to greet women by kissing them on the cheeks, but I’m afraid, here in Berlin, my greeting might be misinterpreted!”

“Nonsense!” Frau Schindler argued. “I insist we honor your customs.” She leaned forward and extended her cheek expectantly.

Richard obliged, bestowing three light kisses.

“They’ve just gone native, if you ask me,” Herr Schindler opined somewhat huffily.

“Ah, yes, that is a very perceptive observation,” Richard agreed, “but I would
have expected nothing less from you! Your ability to analyze situations in colonial territory is, of course, why you have been so successful in your administration of southeast England. Certainly we could use someone of your talent in Göringstadt!”

While Herr Schindler grinned his agreement, Richard smiled discreetly at Frau Schindler.

“But that would be a step down,” Karl observed rather sullenly.

“Yes, it’s true there is no place that compares with Berlin,” Richard replied. “But we do have our compensations. For one thing, I can greet beautiful women with kisses, and there are so many in Berlin!” As he said that, his eyes took in each woman in turn, convincing each his words were intended solely for her. Frau Vogel, blushing slightly, approached expectantly, and Richard greeted her as well.

“But you’re not from the East,” Karl noted. “You said you were from London.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Ach, that explains why you don’t have that lousy Eastern accent!” Herr Schindler remarked. “Like saying
Ratusch
instead of
Rathaus,
God in heaven!”

“Indeed, I was raised in London,” Richard explained, “but the past twenty years of my career have been spent east of Berlin, and it’s with that region that I feel the most familiar, though I have not, as far as I know, picked up the dialect.”

They began to discuss Richard’s background and the coincidences that Karl was raised in London and that Schindler currently held overall responsibility for security in the area. Karl noted that Richard even spoke some English, as evinced by his brief and one-sided conversation the previous night.

“Yes, it’s been a long time, but I thought I’d try out a few words. Your fellow wasn’t very responsive though, was he?”

“They’re not very bright, these people. It’s unfair to expect much of them,” Frau Schindler commented.

“Indeed,” Herr Schindler agreed, “Karl’s boy more than proves their inferiority.”

Karl nodded vigorously, though Elspeth looked somewhat dubious. “But he’s English, you know, and they are of the blood,” she reminded them all.

“Pff!” Herr Schindler sputtered. “I’ve had to deal with these people, and whatever pure blood they once had, it’s gone! They’re a bunch of thugs and reprobates. Hopeless, absolutely hopeless, and the sooner we recognize that, the better!”

“But how can we change the fact that they are part of the
Volk?”
Elspeth asked.

“Hah! We all know that pollution ruins the blood, that’s why we had to clean up our own society first. It’s been obvious from the first,” Herr Schindler lectured. “We try to deal with these people in a civilized manner, then, if that doesn’t work, we know they need special handling! That’s the way it was with the Poles, and—”

“With the Poles?” Elspeth asked.

“It’s not generally known,” Richard answered, “but Hitler’s government wanted to form an alliance with them against the Communists. At that point they were considered worthy of being our allies.”

“Why didn’t they? Weren’t they anticommunist?”

“Yes, they were, but they were uncomfortable with us as well. They had certain problems with our determination to handle some of their internal affairs. Their Jewish problem for instance. They said that Polish Jews would remain Polish citizens and as such were off-limits to German policy.”

“Of course, that just proved they were corrupt to the core,” Herr Schindler said. “Then the English, declaring war on us, what a letdown! The Norwegians resisting us, who would have expected that from a Nordic tribe! Ach! So many betrayals. Clearly our movement to purify Europe came not one minute too soon!”

“My father had to work with them, with the English,” Karl added, “back when we were still trying to coax them into cooperating. What a shambles! We pushed a few into government, but none of them really made it. They were incompetent and sooner or later dropped out of the Party or disappeared altogether.”

“What about now?” Richard asked. “Some of them still hold key positions.”

“A mistake, if you ask me,” Herr Schindler said. “I think they should be barred outright. It was an experiment that didn’t work. They’re corrupted, and the only thing they’re fit for is something like what you have, Karl.”

“The problem is they lack discipline,” Frau Schindler added. “That whole culture is decadent. It leads to lax behavior and that leads to problems. Like with your boy.”

“Problems?” Elspeth asked somewhat worriedly.

“Yes, I’ve already told you what I think of your indulging him like you do,” Frau Schindler admonished.

“Indulging?” Elspeth repeated helplessly.

Beate smiled wanly at her, Richard busied himself by pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offering them around.

“Yes, you indulge him,” Frau Schindler insisted.

“That lad of yours does act uppity, Karl,” Herr Schindler agreed as he accepted one of Richard’s cigarettes. “You’ve been too lenient with him. I think he could do with a sound thrashing.”

“Ach,” Karl disagreed, “he’s all right. We’ve got him well in hand.”

Richard thought of the man he had seen the night before. There had been nothing in his behavior to suggest anything other than a weary obedience; yet, judging from the level of discomfort the Schindlers were provoking in the Vogels, it was clear there was more history to the conversation than he understood. He decided to keep a discreet silence or perhaps offer a change of subject. As he was still contemplating the various segues that were on hand, a second servant boy came and stood expectantly in the doorway. This boy looked only marginally older than the first and had a sufficiently similar face that Richard
thought the two might be brothers. Frau Schindler acknowledged him, and he announced that dinner was ready to be served.

They moved to the dining room, and the conversation flowed naturally along political lines, finally settling on an exchange of office gossip between Karl and Herr Schindler, and an exchange of neighborhood gossip between Frau Schindler and Elspeth. Beate remained grimly mute with the unfamiliar conversation imposed on her, but Richard was intrigued by the insights provided by the men. The meal itself was a rather bland affair of overcooked meat served with two styles of potatoes. When Richard complimented it, Frau Schindler admitted that she had a cook who came in during the day to prepare the evening meal.

“Yesterday, Frau Vogel cooked the meal herself,” Beate informed her hosts. It was her first attempt at entering into the conversation, and the sudden cold look she received from Frau Schindler caused her to fall into bewildered silence.

Richard stepped in to rescue his companion, saying, “Both meals have shown me the wonders of Berlin cooking.”

“Or is it English cooking?” Herr Schindler asked jovially, directing his comment toward Karl.

Elspeth stiffened; Karl looked wary.

“Your boy has many talents, doesn’t he?” Herr Schindler pressed.

“He does what he’s told to do,” Karl answered at last.

“I’d keep my eye on that one,” Herr Schindler advised.

“He’s harmless enough,” Karl assured him wearily.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so,” Herr Schindler said. “I don’t trust any of them,” he added, apparently oblivious to the presence of his own two servants in the room.

“I think it’s worse when there is only one of them. Like with you, Elspeth,” Frau Schindler interjected.

“One suffices,” Elspeth responded quickly.

“Of course. I just meant that you have so much work there, with the children and the house, you really could use more help. Still, I suppose the house isn’t that big.” Frau Schindler added the final jab quite smoothly.

“One is enough, even for a large house, if everything is properly organized,” Karl grated. “There is a labor shortage, and we’re just doing our patriotic duty to minimize our use of the labor pool.”

“But it does mean that he’s everywhere in the house, doing everything. That could be dangerous,” Herr Schindler said, then added rather casually, “I think they should all be castrated. We’d all be safer then.”

Richard noticed a fleeting expression on the face of the boy opposite him. So they weren’t so oblivious!

“It isn’t current policy,” Karl answered slowly, shifting uncomfortably. Unconsciously he had clasped his hands protectively in front of himself.

“I think it should be,” Herr Schindler pressed. “Do you have any idea how they breed? Like vermin. We’ll be inundated soon.”

“We’ll be smothered!” Frau Schindler added tartly.

At that comment, Richard scrutinized her with keen interest. Here might be the ally he was seeking! Clearly the long-suffering Frau Schindler was frustrated by her husband’s slow and stuttering climb to power and was advertising her disdain for him and his policies. She was proving her cleverness as well, for a glance at Herr Schindler showed that he accepted her comment as dutiful, wifely support of his position, and he did not hesitate to add, “In fact, I think it should not only be offered, it should be mandatory for all of them; especially in domestic situations.”