Vogler looked at him blankly. Then he remembered the problem with Oppenheimer’s housing. “Yes, of course. We’ve found a solution. But we had to improvise a little bit.”
* * *
As it was inconceivable for a second person to be transported in the sidecar of Hoffmann’s motorbike, they took a detour via Zehlendorf to exchange their vehicle for a car. When Hoffmann turned into the street, Lisa was already waiting outside the black iron fence of the factory building, looking expectantly down the street. Hoffmann came to a halt right next to her with screeching brakes. Lisa stopped short at first, until she spotted her husband in the back of the car. Oppenheimer got out with a smile and held the car door open for her. “In you get. We have our own chauffeur.”
Lisa’s colleagues, who were leaving the factory behind her, hesitated at the unfamiliar sight. When Lisa became aware of their quiet whispers, she quickly got in the car.
“We celebrated for hours in the factory today because we had no raw material,” Lisa said. “And? What’s happening? Where are they putting us up?”
“Nothing dramatic,” Oppenheimer replied. “It’s actually quite comfortable there.”
He saw that Lisa had more questions, but she made do with the reply. Oppenheimer wouldn’t have said anything anyway, as he wanted to surprise her.
The sky had been cloudy and gray all day, and now the treetops were enveloped in fog. Hoffmann, an old-school gentleman, opened the car door for Lisa. She got out in a daze, wide-eyed. She wasn’t looking where she was going but stared incredulously at her surroundings. The almost autumnal weather reinforced the impression of stepping into a magical world. Lisa breathed in the smell of the forest and felt far away. “It’s beautiful here.”
Oppenheimer could understand Lisa’s surprise. He thought of his own reaction when he’d first come to the colony. By now, these surroundings were increasingly becoming part of his daily routine and progressively losing their magic. Lisa turned to him, a question in her eyes. “But…”
He simply said, “Zehlendorf.”
She immediately understood. “You mean we are being housed in the Kameradschaftssiedlung?”
“Out of the frying pan and into the fire. It seems that’s all they have available right now. But you’ll like it, despite the neighborhood.” He winked at her. “It’s over there,” he said and pointed toward the little house.
Although he didn’t really have the heart to destroy Lisa’s illusions, he thought it best to warn her gently. “Remember, it’s probably just for a week. I doubt they’ll let us live here after that. Even if we do manage to catch the perpetrator by then.”
“Then I’ll consider it a holiday,” Lisa said, looking at him.
“Yes, let’s have a holiday,” Oppenheimer said. With a sigh, the entire weight of the last weeks was lifted from his shoulders. He took Lisa’s hand and led her toward the front door.
Oppenheimer almost stumbled across their three suitcases in the hallway, which someone had placed there, when footsteps could be heard stumbling up from the cellar. The radio operator’s neatly drawn parting came into view. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get a chance to take the suitcases upstairs yet,” he said, clamping one of the pieces of luggage under his arm and picking up the other two by the handle. “There are two bedrooms upstairs.” Then he carried everything up.
Lisa smiled, surprised that they even had their own porter here. “It’s been a while since someone carried our suitcases for us.”
Oppenheimer smiled. “And the best thing about it is we don’t even need to tip.”
There was a bathroom and two bedrooms on the upper floor. The radio operator zealously offered to unpack their suitcases, but that was too much attentiveness for Lisa. She had always wanted to have a house of her own, but Oppenheimer had never been able to put aside enough money to afford one. When he saw his wife in the new surroundings, he realized that this house came pretty close to Lisa’s ideal home.
She surveyed the bedrooms. The second room was larger and had a double bed. Even the beds were made up. “Let’s see what the mattress is like,” Oppenheimer said, slipped out of his shoes, and lay down on the bed. His back had bitterly missed such comforts over the last few years. The beds in the Jewish Houses were not nearly as soft, and recently, they’d spent most of their nights on the hard cellar floor because of the air raids. He was just about to stretch out when he saw Lisa’s expression shift.
“That ruins everything,” she said and placed her hands on her hips. But she wasn’t looking at Oppenheimer; rather, she focused on a spot somewhere above him. He followed her gaze and discovered a framed picture hanging directly above the headboard. Curious, he inspected the glass frame, but from his position he could see little more than the bright reflection of the window. He sat up, expecting to see an image of a saint, only to see Reich Leader SS Heinrich Himmler staring at him through his spectacles.
Oppenheimer was deeply shocked. “Enough is enough,” he snorted. Was Himmler’s picture hanging there to encourage his subordinates to procreate for the Fatherland? Oppenheimer doubted whether this strategy was very promising. “We really have gone from the frying pan into the fire,” he said and turned the image of the so-called Reich Heini to face the wall.
“Better tell me now,” Lisa said. “Are there any other pictures of party barons in the house?”
“That’s nothing. We’ve got the full chamber of horrors here,” Oppenheimer fibbed. “A picture of our special friend Goebbels is hanging above the radio. And then there is one more of Göring stuffed in his uniform like a sausage. Where do you think that one’s hanging?”
“Let me guess, in the larder?”
Oppenheimer became aware of an unusual sound coming from Lisa’s throat. She was laughing.
* * *
Vogler wasn’t going to be stopped by the secretary this time. He briskly strode down the corridors, the police file on Lutzow clamped under his arm. He was finally confident enough. He’d gathered everything together to extract himself from the entire affair and to satisfy the party leaders. Actually solving the case was purely a matter of form now. The time had come to make sure that everything else went according to his plans. His competitor Graeter must not be given the opportunity to pass the solution off as his own success. To give his career the urgently needed push, Vogler had to impress Oberführer Schröder, that much was clear.
Vogler saw an opportunity to be given a new, more important task after having solved this murder case. And the chances were actually good, as the war had entered a decisive phase these past few days. Everyone knew that a struggle for victory or defeat was taking place in the west. Sepp Dietrich, Oberstgruppenführer of the Armed SS and head of Hitler’s Leibstandarte, had made a complete fool of himself two weeks ago when he’d tried to score a propaganda coup by reinterpreting the failed attempt to drive enemy soldiers into the sea as the result of brilliant warfare. The British and American forces were initially meant to be sucked in—his own terminology—so that they could then be wiped out in a blitz move by the German forces. Like most people, Vogler considered the Oberstgruppenführer to be an idiot. However, he was a dangerous idiot you didn’t want to get on the wrong side of. If Dietrich considered it a particular success to have as many enemy troops as possible on the continent, then he might soon be right. Cherbourg was about to fall. Vogler knew that this would be a severe setback for the Wehrmacht High Command, as Cherbourg was a harbor town, and the enemy would then get the opportunity to support their invasion with deep-sea vessels. Heavy materials, tanks, the entire supplies for the military alliance would no longer be a problem. Vogler strode through Schröder’s anteroom, paying no attention to the flustered, gasping secretary. He briefly knocked on the heavy oak door as a matter of form. When he entered without waiting for a reply, he saw that Schröder was not alone. Another man was sitting in the room, in conversation with him. With a sour expression, Oberführer Schröder took note that someone had the audacity to disturb him. Graeter flinched
when he looked around in surprise and recognized Vogler. The Hauptsturmführer stopped in the doorway, his chin thrust forward proudly. His theatrical heel-clicking echoed from the wooden paneling. “Hauptsturmführer Vogler!” he called into the room and saluted. He’d realized years ago that simulating overly officious submissiveness was the best method to legitimize disrespectful behavior toward superiors. He did not respect Schröder as a person, only his power as an SS Oberführer. That was an important distinction to him.
At first, Schröder was perplexed. But he rallied quickly. “Bloody hell, Vogler, what do you think you’re doing? Have you taken leave of your senses?” His bald head almost glowed with agitation. “If there isn’t a damn good reason for you bursting in, then there will be repercussions!”
Vogler observed the two men. It was just as he’d thought. Graeter had ambitions to take over the investigation from the start. Everyone knew he had connections. Of course it had been he who had informed Schröder of the fact that there was a Jew on Vogler’s team. Graeter had done all he could to put obstacles in his way. Maybe he’d even ensured his summons to Goebbels. Was it just a coincidence that he was in the same room, or was it fate? In any case, it would be all the more satisfying for Vogler to see the noose draw more tightly around his adversary’s neck.
“There has been an important development in the Dufour case,” Vogler said. “I considered it my duty to inform you immediately. We have a strong suspect. The case should be solved within a few hours.” The news caused all color to drain from Graeter’s face. Schröder, too, stared at him from his cyclops eye and slowly got up. “I hope that is true.”
“The manhunt for the suspect is already in full swing. I demand that all teams involved in this matter be put under my command so that this criminal can be apprehended as quickly as possible.”
Schröder paced the room, thinking. He had lost all interest in Graeter. However, Vogler knew that his sense of authority prevented him from simply fulfilling a Hauptsturmführer’s every wish. “I will consider the matter. As soon as I’ve come to a decision, I will let you know. Anything else?”
From the corner of his eye, Vogler saw how Graeter had sunk down in his chair. Served him right. The time had come to savor his triumph. He knew that his next move would deeply humiliate Graeter.
“I have one other, extremely important task that needs to be dealt with.”
Surprised, Schröder looked up. “Speak.”
“There is a second suspect in the murder series. I set great value on solving this internally. This is the only way we can ensure absolute secrecy.”
Schröder grew serious. “Why the caution? Are we dealing with a second Ogorzow?”
“It is not likely, but we can’t rule it out. The man’s name is Lutzow, a member of the SA, who got in trouble with the law a while back. Here is his police file.” He handed Schröder the file. “I need all information we can get hold of. It would be best if we arrested him immediately. Better safe than sorry. But we have to proceed with extreme caution. There must be no leaks. This task can only be given to an extremely reliable man. I would like to nominate Hauptsturmführer Graeter.”
With contentment, he noted the shocked expression on his adversary’s face, who had immediately realized that Vogler’s praise was poisoned. The seemingly important task that he was to be given was highly unrewarding. Graeter had to investigate a party member, which was an extremely delicate task. If he didn’t find anything, the matter would come to nothing, and if it turned out that there was some dirt on Lutzow, then only a handful of people would find out. In any case, Vogler would get all the recognition because he had found the murderer.
Schröder shifted his weight from the front to the back of his feet and considered Vogler’s suggestion. Finally, he nodded. “I share your assessment of the situation. Graeter, as of now, you will report to Hauptsturmführer Vogler. You must inform him immediately of any findings.” Then he looked at Vogler. “And you, dear Hauptsturmführer, now carry the ultimate responsibility for the investigation being successfully completed. I don’t care how you do it! I hope you’ve understood.”
Schröder’s conditions certainly met with Vogler’s gambler’s mentality. It was all or nothing now. He saluted. “At your command, Oberführer!”
* * *
Hilde needed a moment to digest the news. Then she burst out laughing. Her laughter caused the telephone receiver to shake. “In the Kameradschaftssiedlung? Holy shit!” was all Oppenheimer could make out between her gasps. After an early dinner in their new accommodations, he had taken Lisa to the nearest pub to call Hilde with the latest news.
Slowly, she calmed down again. “That really is a smart move by arse-face. How long has Joseph given you?”
“Till the end of the week. But as I said, we already have a potential candidate.”
“I still don’t like the sound of it. It’s too dangerous. I’ll inform Dot and Anton and get them to start the operation. You know what I mean. Best you don’t even unpack.”
“Hilde, the matter hasn’t been solved by a long shot,” Oppenheimer protested weakly.
“That’s rubbish. Save your bacon!”
Despite the foggy weather, it was still light enough to show Lisa the Kameradschaftssiedlung. The seasons seemed to have gotten confused, for although it was mid-June, the air was as crisp as in autumn. The forest was visible only as outlines that got lost in the fog. Wrapped tightly in their coats, they dived into the soft twilight.
With Lisa’s arm tucked under his, Oppenheimer wandered past a street named Dienstweg. Path of duty, succinctly Prussian. “Nice,” was Lisa’s comment on the street sign.
“A bit farther down there is a street called Im Kinderland,” Oppenheimer explained. An ironic smile played around his lips. “I don’t know whether there is any significance to the fact that it’s a dead end. I haven’t seen any children around here.”
Lisa shook her head. “These people are mad.” She reflected for a moment. “Still, it’s very beautiful here. If only we could stay. I’m finally getting some peace.” She stopped and took a deep breath with her eyes closed. Then she looked back at her husband. “But it can’t be forever, right?”
“They won’t let us stay here. Only privileged SS people are allowed to. I am sure the party bigwigs are queuing up to accommodate their families here. But at least we’ve earned ourselves a few days in this idyll.”
“And then…”
“Hilde is already working on it,” Oppenheimer whispered. “We can count on her. If anyone can get us out of here in one piece, then it’s she.”
“I know we can count on her. But it’s still better not to think what will happen later.”
“There is no point in grieving about things in advance. Now we’re here, and that’s wonderful.”
They embraced and stood there as if time no longer existed. Oppenheimer felt taken back to the phase in his life when he’d met Lisa and everything about her had been new and exciting. He thought of the nape of her neck, of her long hair that seemed to flow down like water when she bent over him, of her feeling of shame when they’d first made love naked. He felt an unexpected knot in his stomach. He felt like a silly schoolboy, and yet he couldn’t withstand the urge to kiss Lisa. When he leaned forward, she initially looked at him in surprise, but then she understood and with a generous smile allowed him to proceed.
Oppenheimer tried to memorize every little detail of this moment, to capture it for the difficult times that without a doubt lay before them.
25
SATURDAY, JUNE 24, 1944
Oppenheimer was sure he’d been woken by a noise. The sun was shining directly into his face. Squinting, he sat up in bed and looked around the room. He was irritated by the flowered wallpaper; these were not his usual surroundings. Then he remembered that they were in Zehlendorf.
Lisa was asleep next to him. It was ten o’clock. By his standards, he’d slept a long time. His curiosity was stirred by the fact that the bedroom door
was slightly ajar, although Oppenheimer specifically remembered having closed it last night. Lisa had probably gone to the bathroom, he thought. Then he perceived a cautious knocking on the door. Someone cleared his throat noisily. “Mr. Oppenheimer, are you awake now?” It was the radio operator.
“What’s the matter?” Oppenheimer grumbled.
“Hauptsturmführer Vogler instructed me to wake you. It’s urgent.”
Oppenheimer immediately realized what this meant. They had found another body. It couldn’t be anything else. He lay back morosely and closed his eyes. The bed was pleasantly warm. He hated the thought of there being another world outside the sheets.
“Mr. Oppenheimer? Are you coming?”
“Come on, out with it if it’s important! What’s happened?”
“We’ve caught him.”
Afterward, Oppenheimer couldn’t even remember getting dressed. A moment later, he stood next to the bed, fully dressed. Lisa was waking slowly, stretching beneath the sheets. Her smile disappeared when she saw her husband hasten through the room.
“Richard, what’s the matter?”
Oppenheimer leaned over her. “Go to Hilde’s,” he whispered. “Go as soon as I’ve left. Tell her that we’ve caught the suspect. Karl Ziegler. And make sure no one follows you.”
* * *
The big windows on the side of the huge mansard roof were visible from afar. The building used to house the Arts and Crafts School, but meanwhile, the studios and lecture halls had a new purpose. The Department IV of the Reich Security Main Office, responsible for “enemy assessment and combating,” had moved in here in 1939. In less bureaucratic terms, this was Gestapo headquarters.
Rumors about the building had been circulating throughout the city for a long time. There was talk of a special prison that held influential opponents of the regime. Reports of brutal torture made the rounds, played down by officials as intensified interrogation. And as no one really knew what went on behind those walls, a paralyzing fear had spread, which had been the party leadership’s intention. It was noticeable that none of the party leaders had ever seriously attempted to deny these horrors; the worse the rumors within the population were as to what the Gestapo did with their prisoners, the better. Already during the first years of the street fights, the National Socialist rulers had understood that fear played into their hands. The system of spies that Göring had installed by means of the Gestapo after the seizure of power was the most consequent continuation of this concept.
Germania: A Novel of Nazi Berlin Page 32
