Volk (19 page)

“They could have Republican sympathies,” Ernst said, remembering how other countries had generally favored that side. “But surely they have been investigated.”

“Surely they have—by the Spanish,” Heydrich replied with inherent contempt. “You will not have time to do much, but you can inspect their operation.”

“But with only three days at the most, I will hardly be able to get started,” Ernst protested. “They will know I am German.”

“Of course they will know. You will tell them you have been sent directly from Adolf Hitler to learn what they are doing.”

Ernst laughed. But it turned out not to be a joke. Then he realized what Heydrich was up to: Ernst would make an obvious, clumsy investigation, which would set this group's fears at rest— while some other agent, hidden from their knowledge, would do the real investigation. Ernst was a mere decoy. It would be easy enough for him to do.

“I have a contact in Barcelona,” Heydrich said. “He will provide you with authority to investigate.

“But the Admiral will know that something is happening.”

There was a pause. “True. He is not stupid. Very well, you will do this mission for him. I will have word sent down.”

Sure enough, soon Canaris summoned Ernst to his office. “Someone got wind that we had a Spanish-speaking operative going to Spain,” he said, disgruntled. “It turns out that Himmler himself has a concern there, so Keitel has directed me to do a spot investigation as long as my people are in the area.” He grimaced. “As if my work counts for nothing! As if my people are to be borrowed for trifles. But it must be. You must do some work on your idle time after all.”

“I am ready to serve in any capacity, to further the good of the Fatherland,” Ernst replied.

“Go first to Barcelona. There is a contact there who will provide you with a car and tell you something about these Quakers there.”

“Quakers?” Ernst said, surprised. “I have heard of them. They are in America.” For his American friend Lane had a Quaker fiancée named Quality Smith. A really nice young woman.

“They are in Britain too. And in Spain. I have been aware of their activities. They are harmless. It is a waste of time. But Himmler may not be denied. Do this job and report to Algeciras. At least it won't interfere with our real work. It may even help conceal it.”

•  •  •

So it was that Ernst took the train through Vichy France and came to Barcelona, in northeast Spain. There he made his contact, and got his car. Then he drove to the Quaker Relief station and introduced himself.

They seemed genuinely perplexed. “We are merely feeding the hungry children,” their director explained. “We receive supplies from England.”

“Show me,” Ernst said. “Assign a guide to me, who will also take me to the field. To see your various routes, who will explain each part.”

“But we have no extra truck to spare! Two are broken, and we are having trouble getting parts. It is all we can do to keep up as we are.”

Some token of exchange would facilitate things, Ernst realized. “Perhaps I can be of assistance. I have a car; your man can ride with me. Oblige me in this, and I will put in a word for your parts.”

They were quick to appreciate his meaning. They knew how much good or evil the right or wrong word could do. But there was one more complication. “We can best spare one whose truck is down. But that is a woman.”

Ernst smiled. “Do you think me a barbarian? I will not molest your woman.”

“Of course not,” the director said without complete conviction. “But she may not wish to ride with you, even so. She is American, though she speaks Spanish, and does not appreciate Germans.”

“Speak plainly,” Ernst said. “You know I am a Nazi SS officer in civilian guise. It is my government she opposes.”

“That is true.”

“Introduce us. If she declines, we shall have to seek some other person.”

And so Miss Smith made her appearance. “Quality!” Ernst exclaimed, astonished.

“Ernst!” Quality said. She was as surprised as he. She had never imagined that the snooping German could be anyone she knew.

“You know each other?” the director asked, surprised in turn.

Ernst evidently realized that this could complicate things. “Only in passing,” he said. “Think nothing of it. Find another person.”

A sudden, bold, foolish notion came to her. “No, I will ride with you,” Quality said. Though they were speaking in English, she was not using the Quaker plain talk. “I am surplus, at the moment.”

Ernst spread his hands. “As you wish. It is a matter of indifference to me.” Actually that was surely a simplification. He knew her, which might help, but she had not treated him kindly in America. Perhaps he felt alienated—or possibly he was protecting her from the stigma of being too close to a Nazi. He knew she would not lie about her work, or anything else, so he was willing to work with her.

“We do have a friend in common,” she said. “I am ready to join you now.”

She went with him to his car, and he put it in motion. “Had I known it was you, I would not have embarrassed you by such a request,” he said. “I want neither a quarrel nor a complication for you.”

“If it were another person making this inspection, I might find it more awkward,” Quality said. “But though our politics are diametrically opposed, I do respect your integrity, Ernst. I know I can safely ride with you.”

“On that much we can agree,” he said tightly.

She cocked her head, almost quizzically. “We have one other thing in common.”

He was momentarily blank. Then he remembered. “Guernica! We each lost friends there.”

“Must this inspection be conducted on site, or will you accept my answers to your questions? We have nothing to hide.”

“I fear you would not care to answer all my questions.”

“If we played a game of truth?”

He glanced at her. “I prefer not to discuss politics with you again.”

“I have a truly odd idea. Could we drive to Guernica, to see what happened there?”

“But that may be three hundred kilometers by road! We could not get there today, let alone return by nightfall.”

“I do trust you, Ernst, and I want very much to see it. This may be my only chance, because the moment my truck is fixed I will resume my route. I think you could safely go there, as I otherwise might not.”

His surprise was growing. “You would spend the night with me?”

“I think it does not matter what others may think. You know that this is not a social encounter.” That was certain.

He considered. “I would like to visit Guernica, and I could accept your answers. They are likely to be more informative than those of others I might question.”

“Then go back to the office. I will notify them, and pack some things for a two day trip.”

He drove her back, and waited in the car. Still surprised at her sudden audacity in proposing this excursion, she went to explain things to the director. She found it hard to believe that she was serious, but she was doing it regardless. She had never anticipated either encountering Ernst here, or traveling with him.

She collected necessary things in a small suitcase and returned to the car. They started off. He followed her directions to get efficiently out of the city and onto a suitable road going west. The farther they drove, the more the signs of the recent war manifested. There were bombed out buildings and burned areas, and every so often a detour where the road was in rubble. But she knew the best route through, and they made good progress.

“I must confess something,” she said. “Though we were not friends in America, we did know each other, and it has been some time since I have seen a familiar face from my past. You remind me of America, ironically.”

“So do you,” he replied. “How is it you came to be here? I thought you were in college there.”

“When I saw Lane off to the air training in Canada, I found I just couldn't return to my prior life. So I joined the relief effort here. We are doing what we can to feed the children, who have suffered grievously from a war they did not make.”

“War is not pretty,” he agreed.

“I soon discovered how ugly it is. I had never expected to find myself in such a thing, but this is where the need was, and where the need remains. Unfortunately the Nationalist government is becoming increasingly uncooperative. The American Friends Service Committee left Spain at the end of 1939, and our British Friends Service Council is under increasing pressure.”

“I respect the master you serve. I will do what I can to facilitate the acquisition of the parts you need.”

“We appreciate that. Can you tell me anything of your activities?”

He hesitated, and she realized that he could be engaged in secret work. Because she had recognized him, she could give away his original identity and interfere with his mission. “I must ask a favor of you.”

“You are in secret work?”

“Yes. If you tell others my true identity, my life could be in danger.”

This was more serious than she had thought. “I suspected something like that. I asked the director not to talk to others of our encounter.”

He glanced at her. “Is this not deception? You do not practice such.”

“I have learned to compromise. I am not proud of it, but now I do practice deception when it seems necessary.” That was an unfortunate understatement.

“Then I ask you to speak of me to others only as I was introduced to you, and not to mention our prior acquaintance, for the person I am supposed to be has not been to America.”

“Agreed.”

“I am with the SS, doing internal investigation.”

“Then you have not been involved in killing or sabotage,” she said, relieved.

“You exonerate me too readily. I have not personally killed or sabotaged, but I have helped formulate plans which involve these things. Poland, Norway, France—I am guilty.”

“I should not have asked. Have you heard from Lane?”

“Nothing. I have not tried to write to him. I think such a correspondence would bring only suspicion and perhaps discredit on us both.”

“Yes, that must be true. I have maintained correspondence. He joined the RAF, and was in France. When the German invasion came. He—he surely has killed—has downed enemy airplanes. German airplanes.” She tried to mask her emotion.

“It is a thing he must do. He fights for his side, as I must fight for mine. I can only support him in that.” Then he seemed to realize that he had misread the thrust of her comment. “But you— this is against your religion.”

She was silent. He glanced at her, and surely saw that her face was wet with tears. She had been unable to stop them.

“I can not comfort you,” he said awkwardly. “I am of the other side, in this respect also.”

“Yes, you are the enemy,” she murmured, oddly comforted despite this.

They drove on in silence.

But later he spoke again. “I must urge you to do something, for no stated reason. Return to America.”

“But there is still so much work to do here!” she protested.

“Still I think it would be better for you to get out of Spain.”

That meant that the Germans might invade Spain! He might be an advance spy for that. “I appreciate the nature of your warning, but I can not. Not while the children remain hungry.”

“It was the answer I expected. Perhaps it will be all right.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “But I thank thee for thy concern.”

It took her a moment to realize that she was now using the plain talk. Her attitude toward him had changed, though it was not clear to herself in quite what manner.

It was not safe to drive after dark. They came to a suitable town and sought lodging in a hotel. “I have money,” Ernst said. “I will obtain a separate room for you. But—”

“I know,” she said. “It will be safer if we are together. Take one room, in thy name. They will not question it.”

So it was done. They found themselves sharing a somewhat spare chamber on the second floor. There was no hot water, and there were roaches under the single bed, and the bathroom was down the hall, to be shared by all the rooms, but it would do.

They went to a restaurant to eat. Quality ordered water to go with her meal. Here they discovered that water was more expensive than beer. But Quality would not touch alcohol in any form other than externally medical.

“You could have milk,” he said. “I will pay—”

“No. Milk is for children. I would feel guilty.”

So Ernst paid the price for water, for them both.

“I apologize for embarrassing you,” she said in Spanish. They had agreed to speak only Spanish when in public, so as not to attract attention. Her plain talk did not manifest in this language. “I did not think of this beforehand.”

“Please, no discussion,” he said. “It is all right.”

But after the meal, when they were on their way back to the hotel, she brought it up again. “I'm afraid I acted too much on impulse. I did not think through the complications. Had I done so—”

“May I speak plainly?”

She was taken aback. “Of course, Ernst.”

“I treat you with diffidence because you evinced objection to me in America. You are correct in this, because I am what you take me to be. I am an enemy national, and I am carrying a gun. But this is not my impression of you. I have no objection to what you are. Rather, I respect it, the more so now that I have discovered that you are actively implementing your beliefs by putting yourself at risk to help others. I regard you as a fine woman who need never apologize for her consistency or behavior. I did not know that I would encounter you here, or that you would choose to travel with me, but I am extremely pleased that both occurred.”

She was silent for a moment, her feelings in disarray. “That was a bit more candor than I anticipated.”