The Serpent's Egg (27 page)
“Officer Gretzke’s information proved faulty, Boss. The parish priest never heard of a Father Gunther Schlurr.”
“Talk to Gretzke again. Anything else?”
Fischer placed the Marriage Authorization on Neumann’s desk and told him what he’d discovered.
“And you say it’s a forgery?”
“I can’t say that. That’s what the Gestapo man told the registrar. He might have been making some kind of mischief. You know what the Gestapo are like.”
“Did you get the name of this Gestapo officer?”
“Kurt Framzl.”
Kommissar Neumann picked up his telephone and dialed a number.
“This is Kriminal Kommissar Erhart Neumann. I’m ringing from police district 6 on Storkowerstrasss. I need to talk to one of your men.” He listened for a couple of moments. “Kurt Framzl. It’s a murder enquiry. I believe Herr Framzl may have information—” Another pause. “I see. Where? Thank you.” He replaced the telephone on its cradle.
Fischer looked at his boss. “What did they say?”
“That’s a dead end, I’m afraid, Fischer. Kurt Framzl is no longer with the Gestapo. He has been stripped of his rank and
sent to Sachsenhausen concentration camp.”
Chapter 76
December 1939
On December 7, leaving Ule with his father, Greta Kuckhoff paid a visit to Madam Krauss in
Kurfürstenstrasss.
She came bearing gifts as well as her usual basket of food for the Rosen family. December 7 was the first day of Hanukkah, the Holiday of Lights.
The front door was open as usual. She called Madam Krauss’s name. Getting no answer, she went into the back parlor. A scene of devastation greeted her. The room was in disarray, tables and chairs thrown about, Tarot cards scattered. No sign of Madam Krauss. Greta ran up the stairs to the attic. The closet door was open and inside the closet, the secret door had been kicked open, the place ransacked. The family was gone, leaving the few possessions they owned scattered on the floor.
Greta sank to the floor in disbelief. Someone must have informed on them.
She gathered up some of Sophie’s reading books. The thought of Sophie in the hands of such thugs gave her cramps in her stomach.
In hopes of finding a clue about where Madam Krauss and the Rosens had been taken, she searched every room upstairs before going back downstairs. She searched all the rooms downstairs, but found no clues. Perhaps Libertas could use her magic with Emmy Göring to find out where they had been taken, maybe even to get them released.
Greta was in the hall preparing to leave when she heard a slight sound. What was it? Where was it coming from? She listened and waited, but heard nothing more. She must have imagined it. She opened the front door. Then she heard it again. A whimper, like a dog in distress coming from somewhere on the ground floor.
“Hello? Is anybody there?”
Nothing.
She closed the front door and moved quietly toward the rooms at the back of the house, listening for the sound. In the kitchen she heard it again, a definite whimper, a child’s cry, coming from one of the kitchen presses.
“Sophie?” She opened the press and found Sophie inside, knees tucked up to her face, her eyes tightly closed.
“Hey Sophie, it’s me, Greta. Come out of there.”
Sophie crawled out and threw herself into Greta’s arms. She cried long and loud. Greta held her tightly.
When her cries became gulping sobs, Greta used a dishcloth to dry her eyes. “Tell me what happened, Sophie?”
This question was greeted with another flood of howling tears.
“Come on, girl, dry your eyes and tell me.”
Between sobs, Sophie told Greta how men in gray uniforms had taken her parents. She was in the washroom in the house when they broke into the secret room. She managed to hide in the kitchen.
“It was my fault,” she wailed.
“Don’t be silly, child. How could it have been your fault?”
“It was. Frau Krauss had a visitor in a gray uniform. I saw him from the top of the stairs.”
“When was that?”
“I don’t know. A few days ago.”
“And the man saw you?”
“No, no, I don’t think so. But when Frau Krauss was talking to him, Mama said I should be extra quiet. I… I dropped a cup on the floor. It made a terrible noise.”
“And the man came up the stairs to see what the noise was?”
“No. Frau Krauss said it was all right. She said she was trying to contact the man’s father who was dead.”
“A séance.”
“She said the noise of the cup falling made the man think his father was there, listening.”
“So Madam Krauss said the noise was a good thing, not a bad thing?”
She nodded. “Yes. But then the man sent his friends and they took Mama and Papa away.” She howled again, dry-retching.
“It wasn’t your fault, Sophie. You can’t blame yourself for what bad men do. Now come with me. Look, I have some of your books. Is there anything else upstairs that you need to take with you?”
“Aschenputtel.”
“Where is she? Is she upstairs? Come on, we’ll go get her.”
Dragging her heels, Sophie followed Greta up the stairs. She stopped halfway up.
“Wait here,” said Greta. She ducked into the secret room and grabbed the doll.
Sophie took the doll and clung to it. Greta carried child and doll down the stairs.
#
Back at Greta’s apartment, Greta and Adam spoke about this new turn of events while Sophie played with Ule in another room.
Adam said, “You did the right thing, Greta, but we can’t keep her here. We should ask her aunt Pauletta to look after her.”
“You think Libertas and Harro will be happy about that?”
“I’m sure they won’t object.”
Greta took Sophie to the car and Adam drove them to the Schulze-Boysen’s house. When Pauletta opened the door, Sophie threw herself, sobbing, into her arms.
Pauletta picked her up. “Whatever’s the matter, Sophie?”
Sophie was too upset to reply. Pauletta took her into the kitchen.
Greta followed her. “Matilde and David have been taken, Pauletta.”
Sophie interrupted her sobs to say, “It was my… my fault.”
Greta rubbed Sophie’s shoulder. “Nonsense, Sophie. You mustn’t blame yourself.”
Pauletta drew a sharp breath. “Do we know where they’ve been taken?”
Greta shook her head. “We thought we should bring Sophie here.”
Libertas appeared at the kitchen door. Pauletta began to explain. “Sophie needs my help…”
Libertas stopped her with a wave of her hand. “Adam has told me. You can make up the small bedroom for her.” She hunkered down to talk to Sophie. “Sophie can stay with us for a while. Now, tell me what your beautiful doll is called.”
#
Max answered a knock at the door. Anna was reading a book. She heard a whispered conversation and then Frau Greta appeared at the kitchen door wearing a serious frown.
Anna knew something was seriously wrong. “Is it Sophie? Has something happened to her?”
Frau Greta shook her head. “The child is fine. She is safe, but her mama and papa have been taken.”
Anna slumped onto a kitchen chair. “Oh no! Where is she?”
“I’ve left her with her aunt. She’ll be safe there until we can arrange to get her out of the country.”
Max said, “What happened?”
“I’m not sure. They were hiding with Madam Krauss. The Gestapo found them. Sophie hid under the kitchen sink. The poor child blames herself for what happened.”
Anna was having trouble focusing. She wiped her eyes. “How can Sophie blame herself? What about Madam Krauss?”
“She was taken too.”
“Where were they taken?”
“We don’t know.”
Anna’s heart ached for the Rosens and for the child, orphaned in the most cruel way imaginable. “Is there any hope for them?”
Frau Greta shook her head. “Libertas will ask Emmy to intercede for them, but there’s a limit to what even Hermann Göring can do.”
As Frau Greta was leaving, Anna hugged her and handed her two children’s books that she’d bought for Sophie
. It was all she could do.
Chapter 77
December 1939
On Christmas Eve, Max knocked on the door of his mother’s house in Wittenberg. She opened the door without a word, turned on her heels and left him standing on the doorstep. He stepped inside and closed the front door.
Once again the house was dark, with no tree, no lights, and no candles. Christmas had been cancelled in this small corner of the universe.
In the hallway, he saw a new hallstand and on the stand a shiny new black telephone.
He followed her into the front parlor. She stood in the far corner of the room in a self-hugging pose facing the window. This was odd, even for her.
“Mother, how have you been?”
She moved her head in an ambiguous gesture.
“Are you all right, Mother? You do know it’s Christmas Eve?”
No answer.
“I’ve brought you a gift. It’s from Anna and me.” He strode across the room, holding out a small parcel wrapped in Christmas paper.
She ignored him.
“I’ll leave it here. You can look at it later.” He placed it on top of the upright piano beside the picture of his father in his uniform. He got no word of thanks, and not even a flicker of curiosity as to the contents of the parcel.
“I see you have a telephone at last, Mother. Why didn’t you ring me and let me know? How long have you had it?”
She turned her head and snapped, “You should have called me.”
“I would have if I had your number. Give it to me now.”
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s Christmas Eve, Mother. I always visit on Christmas Eve. I’ve brought you a gift.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t you like me visiting you?”
“There’s no need. You can ring me on the telephone in future.” She turned her body to face him. “You can see yourself out, can’t you?”
That was a short visit! All of seven minutes.
Max went out to the hall. He found his mother’s telephone number written on a pad on the hallstand: 58515 He turned to the second page to write his own telephone number and found a second number on there marked with a single letter: ‘W 10267.’ It was not his mother’s handwriting. His heart skipped a beat. Could that be his father’s number? W for Wilhelm?
He picked up the telephone handset intending to dial the number, but had second thoughts when he heard the dial tone. He replaced the handset on its cradle. Then he wrote ‘Max 12388’ in big letters on the pad. As he went back toward the parlor to ask her whose number it was, his mother scuttled out. She disappeared into the kitchen and closed the door.
He called to her through the closed kitchen door. “I’ve written my number on the pad, Mother. Now you can call me whenever you like.”
No answer.
“Mother, did you hear me?”
Still no response.
Max left.
When he got home, he picked up the telephone and dialed 58515.
His mother picked up the telephone after an age. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Mother. It’s Max. I just rang to see if your telephone was working and to wish you a very joyous Christmas.”
No answer.
“You can call me whenever you like now, Mother. I wrote my number on your pad.”
“Yes, all right.”
“Mother? Are you still there? Are you all right?”
“Goodbye, Max-Christian.” She ended the call.
He re-ran the conversation in his mind. She hadn’t sounded depressed. Was she angry about something? But what could she be angry about?
Anna entered the room, carrying a bottle of wine. “Who was that on the telephone?”
“Mother. She sounded strange.”
Anna handed Max a glass of wine without comment.
“Stranger than usual, I mean.”
He told Anna about how odd his mother had been on his visit.
“Did she seem unhappy?”
“No, she seemed angry about something.”
“Angry about what? Was she angry with you?”
“I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.”
Anna responded quietly, “She’s as mad as a March hare. I just hope it’s not hereditary.”
Max told her about the telephone number he’d found on her telephone pad ‘W 10267.’
“I thought it might be my father’s number. W for Wilhelm.”