by Alex Gerlis
‘Have you told your wife about this?’
‘I had to. If this works, we’ll need to keep Andreas off school until Alfred arrives in Zürich. Also, I’ve had to tell her about Alfred: he’ll be coming to stay with us, after all.’
‘What does she think of it?’
‘Fortunately, Helga is braver than me. She’s a very devout woman and believes this is her Christian duty. As long as there’s no danger to Andreas, then she’ll go along with it.’
‘That’s all very well, but why on earth would Andreas be in Berlin – and with me?’ Henry was holding the boy’s passport. ‘What am I to say when I’m asked what I’m doing in Berlin with the son of my boss at Bank Leu? And what about how he got there – won’t they spot he didn’t come into Germany with me?’ Henry sounded annoyed.
‘Turn to the third page of the passport please,’ said Hedinger. ‘This is where my relationship with the passport clerk at the German consulate paid off. I asked him to stamp the passport showing that Andreas entered Germany this coming Monday – the 24th. I explained this was a treat for Andreas. As ever, he was most obliging: given the way the bank looks after him, he ought to be. In this envelope is the train ticket for Alfred to use from Berlin to Zürich. It’s a return, showing the outward part of the journey – from Zürich to Berlin – was on Monday 24th February. There’s no reason why the German border guards should question this and the Swiss ought not to be difficult about allowing a Swiss boy to re-enter his country.’
‘And the story, Herr Hedinger?’ asked Remington-Barber. ‘We always need to have a very good story.’
‘A reward! Andreas has done so well at school I promised him a visit to Berlin. I was planning to take him myself but have been unable to arrange it because I’m so busy, so I asked one of my couriers to do so. Andreas is fascinated by everything he sees about Germany, the marching – everything. He is so excited.’
Henry sat very still with his head in his hands. Edgar raised his eyebrows high and looked at Remington-Barber who shook his head.
‘Henry: any better ideas?’
‘None I can think of at the moment.’
‘Basil?’
Remington-Barber shook his head. ‘It’s a bit thin, to be honest, but then very few cover stories are quite as watertight as we’d like them to be. We have to rely on no-one probing too deeply. I suppose it does at least have the merit of being relatively simple. As long as no-one pushes too hard on why a mere courier would be entrusted with taking his boss’s son to Berlin. Perhaps we could say Henry’s also a close family friend of yours: maybe your wife could write a letter thanking him for putting himself out and all that?’
‘That’s a good idea, Basil,’ said Edgar.
‘Herr Hedinger, you’ll need to give Henry some important information: your address, what Andreas likes and doesn’t like, all about his school, sports – that kind of thing,’ said Remington-Barber. ‘Alfred will have to learn all that in case he’s questioned.’
Edgar sighed loudly, stood up and paced around the room, a trail of cigarette smoke following in his wake.
‘Let’s be frank. If the Gestapo pull in Alfred and interrogate him, the whole thing will fall apart. We have to hope, as Basil says, we don’t get to that point; that no-one probes too deep. If none of us can come up with a better tale, I suppose that’s it. Herr Hedinger, you’d better get back to the bank. Can I suggest you invite Henry round to your house at the weekend? That way he can familiarise himself with Andreas and your family. Basil, I think you ought to go too.’
***
Chapter 19: Berlin, February 1941
Henry Hunter arrived at the Kaiserhof hotel on Wilhelmstrasse a few minutes after six o’clock on the evening of Monday 24th February. It was only his second-ever visit to Germany’s capital, the first being in 1934 or 1935 – he couldn’t remember for sure – when he had accompanied his mother as a late replacement for his step-father, who had pulled out ‘because of business.’ He remembered his mother being charmed by Berlin, in a rather naïve way. Utterly oblivious to the politics, she was much taken with what she saw as people’s enthusiasm and the enormous swastikas draped from the buildings. She admired the dramatic colours and the way they swayed very gently, even in the absence of a breeze. For Henry, the visit was simply an affirmation of what he believed in: he could not wait to get out of the city, vowing never to return.
But now he had returned. The hotel made a fuss of him, assuring him that Bank Leu were most valued clients and would he like to make a reservation for dinner? There were numerous forms and cards to fill in, which he did with the utmost care. He had spent the weekend going through the trip in detail with Remington-Barber and Edgar, and he had been warned about the hotel cards. They were destined for the Gestapo, which had a special office in Berlin where every night the cards of newly arrived foreigners would be carefully examined against the Gestapo’s meticulous records.
Remington-Barber had been quite candid. ‘If they’ve got anything against you from last year’s Stuttgart trip, then alarm bells will go off. They’ll either haul you out of bed that night or first thing in the morning. That’s the bad news, Henry. Good news is that if they’ve nothing adverse on your file – and there’s no reason why they should – then you’re in the clear: should make the rest of the trip that much easier, relatively speaking.’
Henry ate little for dinner that night and slept badly, alert to every sound on the corridor as he waited for the Gestapo to come and arrest him for the murder of the owner of the perfume shop in Essen. At four in the morning he was convinced he could hear footsteps in the corridor and finally decided to unlock the door and have a look, but the long passageway was deserted, apart from neat pairs of shoes outside a number of the doors.
He felt a bit more relaxed and drifted asleep, only to be visited by the familiar face of Roza – her image far more in focus and its presence remaining for longer than usual. She spent much of the night asking questions, but each time he tried to reply he found he couldn’t form the words. When he woke on the Tuesday morning, he was exhausted, but as he lay in bed his mood lifted. It was a quarter to eight and in the corridor he could hear the chambermaids gathering. At least, he decided, he’d passed the scrutiny of whichever Gestapo clerk had been scrutinising the hotel registration cards overnight.
This upbeat mood continued as he went down to breakfast, despite having to walk down corridors and stairs adorned with a gallery’s worth of framed photographs commemorating Hitler’s various visits to the hotel, of which there appeared to be many.
He knew he was likely to be in Berlin until Friday. According to Hedinger, it was not unusual for the bank’s couriers to have to wait a few days to collect the return documents, and Edgar and Remington-Barber were clear that a few days would be essential for Alfred to prepare for the journey to Switzerland.
‘If all goes to plan,’ said Remington-Barber, ‘you and Alfred will come out on Friday morning. After that it depends on your journey: with a very fair wind you could be in Zürich late Friday, but more likely Saturday. Make sure you send Hedinger a telegram from Stuttgart when you know what train you’re going to be on.’
He was due at the Reichsbank at ten o’clock and his instructions were to go by taxi: it was not done to walk the streets carrying important papers. Henri Hesse from Bank Leu entered the bank through the enormous doors on Französischestrasse. It was ten o’clock and he had been warned to expect delays. He was not to be disappointed. First he was searched, then he had to report to reception, which was a tall, polished-oak desk behind which a row of serious-looking receptionists peered down. After that he was given a form and sent over to another desk to fill it in. When he returned to the main reception desk, the form was carefully checked and only then did the receptionist deign to telephone Gunter Reinhart’s office. Herr Reinhart will be with you in due course. Please wait over there.
‘Over there’ was a small waiting area where half a dozen other people were sitting quietly.
The man opposite was clutching a Swiss passport and a padlocked briefcase. He told Henry he was a courier, from the Basler Handelsbank. He was surprised not to have seen Henry there before, he said: sometimes there could be as many as half a dozen couriers at the Reichsbank from the different Swiss banks.
The man got up and sat next to Henry. He was no more than five feet tall and was wearing a dark, formal suit that seemed to be a size too large for him. He stretched up to whisper in Henry’s ear.
‘I don’t know who needs the other more – us or the Germans. I used to work for the SBC in Basle: I can’t tell you how much work they were getting from this side of the border. Basler Handelsbank has recruited five of us in the past couple of months. From what I understand, it’s been even busier for you lot in Zürich, is that right?’
‘Indeed.’ Henry shifted to his left, away from the man, whose breath reeked of stale tobacco.
‘I don’t want to know where the Germans are getting all this gold and cash from – but what I do know is that if it wasn’t for us they’d be stuck with it. We’re doing them a big favour – and we’re making a lot of money in the process. How are things with Bank Leu?’
‘Yes… very good, thank you.’
‘So, where are you staying? Maybe tonight…’
At that point a secretary appeared in front of them, a gold swastika the only touch of colour on her dark suit.
‘Bank Leu?’
Henry stood up.
‘Come with me.’
Five minutes later Henry was in the small, deeply carpeted office of Gunter Reinhart. Reinhart had assured his secretary they would not be needing coffee and yes, thank you, he had all the papers he needed. That would be all, thank you.
It was silent in the office apart from the ticking of a clock that Henry couldn’t see. He and Gunter Reinhart eyed each other carefully. Reinhart waited a moment then walked over to close the door his secretary had left ajar. He gestured for Henry to sit and held up his hand – wait. A minute later he walked softly over to the door, opened it, looked around, closed it again and came to sit at his desk.
‘My secretary is – how can I put it tactfully – very efficient but nosey. She’s the kind of person who likes to know everything. That’s bad enough, but in these times – that can be quite a problem. Recently she joined the Nazi Party and she’s forever telling me about how her husband has become some kind of party representative in the street where they live. That means they spy on their neighbours, so naturally I assume she spies on me. I’m very careful with her.’
Gunter had relaxed a bit now and his manner had now become noticeably friendlier. He reached across the desk and held out his hand to shake Henry’s. ‘I’m Gunter Reinhart, by the way, as you’ve no doubt gathered. I’m pleased to meet you. You have the documents? It’s important they’re here and in order. We don’t want people questioning why you came!’
Henry handed over the envelopes containing the Bank Leu documents. Reinhart opened them carefully with a dagger-like letter opener. He glanced over the documents then put them to the side of his desk.
‘I’ll deal with them when we’ve finished. The documents for you to take back to Zürich won’t be ready until late Thursday, you realise that?’
‘So I understand.’
‘It’s not unusual for a courier to hang around Berlin for a few days.’ He had left his desk now and come to sit next to Henry, speaking more quietly.
‘Most couriers seem end up at the zoo, I’ve no idea why – I suppose they get bored. It’s not as if they can go to a library, not now we’ve burned most of the books worth reading! As far as you’re concerned, you won’t get bored: we’ve plenty to keep you busy.’ Reinhart paused and coughed. He hesitated before he resumed speaking, this time in an even lower voice. He gestured for Henry to lean closer.
‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am…’ Reinhart looked as though he was overcome by emotion. ‘My family situation… has been a source of great stress. It’s been explained to you, I take it?’
‘Yes.’
‘I should never have divorced Rosa. We thought it was for the best. We assumed it would be a short-term measure and that maybe the Nazis would change their minds or go away. How could we have been so stupid as to think that? Once we realised that was never going to happen, our plan was for Rosa and Alfred to move to another country and I’d join them in due course, but it didn’t turn out like that. We both remarried. At least I believed they’d be safe once they moved to Paris, but to find they’d returned to Berlin… Madness: it was a terrible shock. Now they’re trapped here and I’ve been desperate to find a way of getting them out. For a while Rosa wanted the three of them to remain together, but once she found out about Harald’s death, she agreed with me that, at the very least, we must get Alfred out. Once he’s in Switzerland then I can see what can be done with Rosa and of course Sophia, too. But for now, getting Alfred out of Germany is the priority. That’s what I pray for.’
‘Does Alfred know about the plan?’
‘Not yet. You’re going to meet him this afternoon. You’ll obviously need to spend some time with him. Rosa knows there’s a plan and she knows something will happen this week, but she doesn’t know the details – for that matter, neither do I. Tell me briefly what the plan is: if you stay too long then my secretary will become suspicious.’
Henry took Andreas Hedinger’s passport out of his jacket pocket and carefully placed it on the blotter pad on Reinhart’s desk.
‘The plan is for Alfred to accompany me back to Zürich using this identity – Andreas is Michael Hedinger’s son.’
Reinhart nodded. I know.
‘This passport is two years old, so anyone looking at it wouldn’t be surprised the person in the photograph has changed. Also, I have with me the very spectacles Andreas is wearing in the photo. You can see Andreas has quite a distinctive hairstyle…’
Reinhart picked up the passport and put on his own glasses. He turned on his desk lamp and studied the document carefully, his face impassive.
‘Andreas’s hair is much darker than Alfred’s. As far as his hair is concerned, Alfred inherited my Aryan genes rather than his mother’s. I’d always thought that’d be an advantage.’
‘We’ve thought of how to deal with the question of his hair colour. I’ve brought some black dye with me: it’s back in the hotel. If we can use it on Alfred then style his hair to look like Andreas, it may work: especially with the glasses.’
‘It’s certainly feasible; there’s no doubt about that. But how come you’ll be accompanied back to Zürich by the boy?’
Henry breathed in deeply, anxious not to betray any of his own scepticism. ‘The story will depend on us not being questioned too much but, in a nutshell, as well as acting as a courier for Bank Leu, I am also posing as a family friend of the Hedinger’s. It’s because of that I brought Andreas with me to Berlin as a treat.’
Reinhart said nothing but stared at Henry for a good few minutes.
‘That’s it?’
Henry shrugged his shoulders. Yes, I know… don’t tell me.
‘You think it’ll work?’
‘Hopefully. On the positive side, the passport is a genuine Swiss one. As long as they’re not suspicious, they probably won’t push Alfred too hard.’
Reinhart snapped the passport shut, handed it back to Henry, turned off his desk lamp and walked over to the window. He looked out over the Spreekanal then turned to face Henry.
‘The alternative is to smuggle Alfred out and that’s too dangerous. This plan will have to work. And you know about the document that’ll be released only once I know Alfred is safe in Zürich?’
Henry nodded.
‘Good. You’re to meet Franz Hermann at one o’clock. He will escort you to the house where they’re all hiding. Let me give you your instructions: you’ll need to listen carefully. Incidentally, Herr Hesse, are you fond of flowers?’
***
Henry went from the Reichsbank back to th
e Kaiserhof, where he sought out the concierge. ‘I have an unexpectedly free afternoon. I wonder if you could suggest anything I might do?’
The concierge smiled obligingly. Please could he have his guest’s details?
Henry recalled what Gunter Reinhart had told him that morning. ‘Anything you discuss with them could be reported back to the Gestapo, they like to keep tabs on foreigners – so your plans will need to appear plausible: use them to create an alibi.’
‘And what would you be interested in doing, sir?’ the concierge asked. ‘The cinema maybe, or shopping?’
Henry shook his head.
‘I’ve been spending so much time indoors that I wouldn’t mind some fresh air.’
‘The zoo perhaps? It’s within the Tiergarten so you could combine the two.’
Henry shook his head. ‘To be honest, I’m not very keen on animals. They make me nervous.’
‘I quite understand, sir. Do you want to stay in the city?’
‘I think so, it’ll be dark soon.’
‘That’s true. I was going to suggest a visit to Potsdam, but perhaps that’s for another day. Are you by any chance interested in plants and gardens?’
‘Yes, I am actually.’ He managed to sound just the right side of enthusiastic.
‘Well, we have an excellent Botanischer Garten down in Dahlem. It’s a quite wonderful haven of peace and quiet in the city, and the gardens are most beautiful.’
Henry managed to look as if he was having second thoughts. ‘In Dahlem you say: isn’t that far away?’
‘Not at all sir’ said the concierge, ‘it’s no more than six or seven stops on the S-Bahn from Anhalter. The gardens are just a few minutes’ walk from Botanischer Garten station. Here, let me show you how to get there.’
***
Every minute of your visit will be laced with danger, but no moment will be more dangerous than the one in which you drop your guard.
