He tried his best to look worried and dispel her suspicion. “Yes, ma’am, I noticed. It’s quite a nuisance. The power company must be having a problem somewhere along the line. Hopefully, they will get it fixed sooner than later. Good evening, ma’am.”
With a nod, he snapped up the envelope and turned on his heel before his grin could give him away. Then he rushed up the stairs, taking three steps at a time.
If his landlady had the faintest idea the frequent outages were a direct result of his electrical experiments, he’d be out on the street in no time at all. She was suspicious enough since he’d lost his job, and he was sure she would be anything but happy if she ever found out he used his apartment to conduct scientific research that sometimes involved explosive substances or caused minor hiccups like electrical outages.
Inside his flat, he tore the envelope open. It was from the patent office, and he laughed as he looked over the paper inside.
***
Q gathered up his most recent studies and stuffed them into his briefcase. Glancing at his watch, he smiled. In half an hour he would meet his friends Jakob, Otto, and Leopold. With his recent acquisition of a Ford Köln automobile, the journey from Oranienburg to Berlin took less than twenty minutes.
Just in time, he parked his automobile at the curb next to the bar where his friends already waited for him. They’d known each other since university and had since met in irregular intervals to discuss the newest developments in science. Jokingly, they’d given themselves the name Tüftlerclub as the four of them liked to invent, research, and tinker.
After he proudly presented his new car and enjoyed the admiration of his friends, they stepped inside and ordered Schnitzel with potato salad. When everyone had a beer in hand, Otto addressed the one topic that everyone in Germany seemed to talk about today: Hitler’s Machtergreifung – seizure of power.
“Did you see the headlines?” Otto asked excitedly.
“Everyone has,” Leopold answered. “Hitler has seized control of the government.”
Since the radio broke the news last night that Hitler had proclaimed himself the new chancellor of Germany along with his NSDAP party acquiring several high-ranking cabinet posts, an unusual excitement had captured every person in Germany. Q had perceived that people seemed to be one of two persuasions: happily excited or very upset with the Nazi party.
“Can you believe that within a few hours, Swastika flags have appeared on just about every building?” Q asked.
“Now everything will change for the better,” Otto said. “Hitler will get us out of the unjust Versailles Treaty and make us a proud and powerful nation once again.”
Leopold nodded eagerly. “You’re right. The reparations imposed upon Germany after the Great War were nothing more than a way to humiliate our nation. It’s time to stop that.”
“Come on, fellows. The reparations were ended last year during the Lausanne Conference. You can’t blame them for the bad economy.” Jakob tried to bring the discussion back to the facts, but neither Leopold nor Otto wanted to hear them right now.
“They certainly didn’t help. I hope Hitler can do everything he’s promised.”
“Everything?” Q asked, looking around the table. “What about his racism and anti-Semitism?”
Leopold and Otto looked at Jakob and sobered a bit. “Neither of us agree on that part of his ideas, but it’s nothing to be afraid of. Things are never as bad as they look. Besides, I think that type of thing was just talk.”
Q’s gut twisted, and he shrugged, “I certainly hope so. But only time will tell.”
His friends had always been more carefree than he was, and they’d teased him time after time for overthinking. Even Jakob seemed fairly nonchalant about the situation, although there was a new tension about him that Q hadn’t noticed months earlier.
Deep down, Q knew Hitler was a fanatic, willing to go to extremes to make his beliefs come true. Much like Q himself, who would sacrifice almost anything for his science. But while Q always intended to serve humankind, he doubted that Hitler acted on the same maxim.
Their conversation switched from politics to science and after the second beer, they started reciting funny rhymes and spoonerisms.
“Es klapperten die Klapperschlangen
bis ihre Klappern schlapper klangen.”
Q stood up, “I have another one.” Then he recited:
“She sells sea shells;
It's sea shells she sells.”
When Q drove home, he had thoroughly enjoyed the evening with his friends, but for some reason, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that the events yesterday had irreparably changed the course of history. But even he couldn’t imagine that this day would, decades later, be named the most fateful day of the century.
***
The next week, Q visited the Soviet trade mission again. This time, the commercial attaché was happy to see him and introduced himself with the name Herr Iwanov.
“Doctor Quedlin, what a pleasure to see you. Please take a seat.”
Two more men were already sitting at the small table in the middle of the room and gave him a friendly nod. After some small talk, Herr Iwanov said, “We have made contact with Mr. Zelinksy, and he confirmed to us that you are a loyal believer in the ideals of the October Revolution and Communism. Our scientists also double-checked the information you provided in regards to the gas mask. It is of high quality and very useful to the Russian people. Therefore, we would like to suggest an ‘official’ cooperation, if that is what you were after.”
Q nodded. “Thank you, Herr Iwanov. That is indeed high praise.”
“We are unable to offer you much money, but…”
Q shook his head. “You misunderstand my reason for being here. I don’t want money.”
Everyone in the room looked at him, and it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “You don’t?”
“No, I am doing this for the greater good.” He missed the looks the Soviet men shared with one another. “I want to help humanity, and hopefully, prevent another devastating war.”
“You feel war is a possibility?” one of the men inquired.
Q nodded. “Yes. I believe the new government in Germany is headed directly there. Every day, Hitler is keeping a tighter rein on things and getting rid of unwanted opposition. I’m very sure he will do everything in his power to make his dreams come true.”
The other man scrutinized Q for a moment. “If you believe Hitler is here to stay and is as dangerous as you say, you must be aware that working with us will make you a traitor and put you in grave danger.”
A shiver ran down Q’s spine. He hadn’t given that aspect much thought when he’d decided to gather intelligence for the Russians, but after the Machtergreifung last week, he’d had to re-think his decision. Even though it wasn’t technically illegal to give his own work to other nations, the current powers wouldn’t forgive anyone working against them.
He squared his shoulders before he answered, “I have given this possibility some thought, and have come to the conclusion that the greater good is more important than my own well-being.”
The three men nodded with admiration, and Herr Iwanov said, “That is a very rare and courageous attitude you’re showing. But why bring your information and skills to us? Why Russia and not another country? After all, our countries were enemies in the last war.”
A grin spread over Q’s face. “I believe Germany has been enemies with every other country around. But to answer your question, I’ve thoroughly studied the other European nations, and I believe Russia is the only country that will use my inventions and expertise with the good of the people in mind. I wish for my discoveries to be used to help my fellow man in a peaceful manner.”
The men exchanged incredulous glances. “Your answer shows that you’re a scientist and not a politician. Given the chance, men will always act against one another.”
Q looked around the room and asked, “Will they? Hasn’t Bolshevism abolished the self
ish egoism of a few and replaced it with a government of the people?” He shook his head, answering his own rhetorical question. “I merely want the best for myself and others, and there are many more men and women who think the same way.”
Chapter 12
During one of Q’s meetings with his Russian contact, whom he only knew by the name Pavel, the agent asked him, “Would you be willing to travel to Paris on a mission?”
“Paris?” Q raised an eyebrow. “That’s in France.”
“Yes, it is, Q. As you suggested yourself, the Nazi government is problematic, to say the least. They are an unknown force in the equilibrium of powers and seem to care little for maintaining peace in the region.”
“And what does that have to do with Paris?” Q asked.
“Our government has taken up negotiations with the French – absolutely confidentially and unofficially, of course. We are seeking to exchange knowledge to better prepare all neighboring European countries for war against Germany.”
Q nodded. “That makes sense, but what role do I play in that?”
Pavel leaned across the table in the crowded café and lowered his voice. “We have received a request for help from a group of French chemical engineers who are working closely with gas warfare. With your experience and expertise, we believe you can help them solve the problem.”
A flattered smile curled Q’s lips, and a tingle of excitement rushed through his veins. This would be his first important mission and to France no less. He’d learned French at school but was in no way fluent in the language.
“I would be honored to help.”
The Russian agent explained the details of the trip, and when he had finished, Q asked, “How should I explain my trip? I can’t tell the authorities I’m going to help some French scientists to find ways to detect and counteract gas warfare. Can I?"
The thought of what might happen if he was caught and the authorities learned his true reason for going to Paris froze his blood.
Pavel grinned and then asked, “Do you know how to ski?”
“Ski? Yes. Why?”
“To hide the true reason for your trip.”
Q was so nervous he had difficulties following the words of his counterpart. Skiing in Paris? Don’t they have a better plan?
“We have arranged for a hotel in Klosters. You’ll take a weeklong skiing holiday. Switzerland has always remained neutral in every conflict and nobody will suspect any political motives if you travel there. Go skiing, have fun, and then continue your trip to Paris without telling anyone. You’ll find all the details in here.”
The agent handed him an envelope. “Apart from travel documents and instructions, there are enough Swiss francs and French francs in there to cover your travel expenses for this trip.”
Q eyed the envelope suspiciously. Being paid for his trip didn’t mesh with his idealistic motifs of working for the greater good. “I don’t want to be paid for my help.”
The agent pushed the envelope into Q’s hands. “Take it. Use the money with our thanks.”
Q argued with the man a few more minutes and then capitulated. “Very well, but I’ll only use the money to travel to Paris to meet with these engineers and will return the rest at our next meeting. I will pay for the skiing holiday myself.”
“As you wish.” The agent smiled and disappeared, while Q sat in the café trying to fully process what just happened. He didn’t dare open the envelope in there, and stuffed it into his briefcase before he paid and left.
As soon as Q returned to his apartment in Oranienburg, he tore the envelope open and rushed to read the details of his trip. He was to leave in a few days, and his mind was buzzing with the plans he needed to make. And the excuses he needed to have ready.
Because he’d never heard from the police again about the investigation against him for industrial espionage, he was fairly certain it had been closed, but a small doubt remained. He didn’t want to poke the sleeping lion, but not knowing the outcome made him uncomfortable. Thus, he sat down to write a letter to the police asking about the official outcome of his investigation.
He cringed as he imagined how different an interrogation by the SA Brownshirts or the SS Schutzstaffel might look from what he had experienced with the police were they to discover his true reason for travelling to Paris. Those paramilitary wings of the Nazi Party were known to punch first and ask questions later, and Q was certain he didn’t want to be the subject of their attention. In any form.
***
Q tried his best to enjoy his two days of skiing vacation in Klosters but was too nervous. His mission occupied his mind every waking moment. His trip to Paris on the night train went smoothly, and the next morning, he met with the French scientists.
They were all friendly and intelligent men, but unfortunately, their English was a lot worse than he’d hoped for – and their German nonexistent – causing several minor hiccups in the course of the next days. But what drove him nearly insane were the work habits of his French colleagues. Every little detail required an hour-long discussion before it could be implemented.
If they start another fruitless discussion, I’ll start screaming. Have those Frenchmen never heard of efficiency?
At home, people got right to the heart of the problem and fixing it. Name the problem. Think of a solution. Test it. If it didn’t work, repeat. There was no need to discuss all the possible solutions when one could just go and test them out. But the French worked the opposite way.
When presented with a new problem, they talked about it. A lot. Usually, about ten minutes into the discussion, his colleagues forgot about his presence and switched to their mother tongue. Back at home, he’d thought his understanding of the French language was passable, but now he knew better.
As soon as his colleagues inevitably started talking at the same time and sped up their speaking, he lost track of the conversation, and his understanding was reduced to mumbo-jumbo.
He leaned back, observed the three chemical engineers and found himself staring in amazement at their heated discussion. It seemed perfectly normal for them to raise their voices at each other, shouting for hours without apparent reason about a problem, just to later congratulate each other for coming up with a solution. It was peculiar, but it apparently worked.
Their methods were so much less efficient than those he was used to, but to his utter surprise, they managed to come up with solutions anyway. Sometimes amazing solutions he wouldn’t have thought of.
The one part of their day Q truly enjoyed was lunch. From the first day, he fell in love with the French cuisine and the wine. Rather than a hurried half an hour or even a respectable hour for lunch, the Frenchmen took a full two hours, sometimes more. Every time they ate, it was a celebration and Q fully participated. It was such an amazing experience to savor the food instead of gulping it down without thinking. His colleagues even urged him to join them in drinking a glass of wine during lunch because it was good for the health.
This was another peculiar French habit. In Germany, you could be fired for drinking at work, but here? They’d probably fire you if you didn’t have a glass of wine with your meal. Suspicious at first, Q soon started to like this habit. One small glass of wine – not more – stimulated his brain and loosened his inhibitions enough to give his colleagues a taste of his not-so-perfect French language skills.
“Vous parlez français!” Antoine Dubois said, and Q nodded proudly. From that moment on, the ice was broken and Q was accepted as a friend. “Je suis Antoine,” his colleague offered, introducing himself. In response, Q answered, “Mon nom suis Wilhelm, mais m’apelle Q.”
Everyone laughed at his faulty usage of French grammar, but it didn’t matter. From now on, he was part of their team, and they did their best to make him feel welcome in Paris.
The next day they invited him to dinner after work and as always, they talked about anything and everything under the sun. Soon, the discussion turned to politics and Antoine asked him, “Your new chance
llor, Hitler, he is temporary?”
Q thought for a moment and then shook his head. “At this point, I’m afraid not. He has a lot of support from the military and the people.”
“But his seizure of power…there was nothing democratic about it. Won’t he be called to account?”
“In the old Germany, yes, but we have a new Germany now.” Q could see the worry on their faces; one he secretly shared.
“Just last week the news said books are being burned, and opponents hunted down. Gleichschaltung they call it,” another of his colleagues said.
Q nodded. “The word literally means to synchronize or bring into line. I believe the Nazi Party is trying to bring about a specific doctrine and way of thinking. They want more control.”
“There have been reports of people being arrested who openly criticized the Nazi form of government.”
Q hadn’t heard such reports but wasn’t surprised. “Many of my fellow compatriots don’t take Hitler and what he’s trying to do seriously. Most seem to think he is all talk and exaggeration just for show.”
“But you don’t?” Antoine asked.
“I wouldn’t be here if I did.” He grinned. “I believe he is very dangerous. He’s talked about expelling all thirty political parties out of Germany. He’s after absolute power and authority over my country.”
“And what happens when he gets it?”
“May God prevent this.” Q didn’t have an answer for that question, but he feared the man’s lust for power would send Germany and the whole of Europe into an inferno.
His colleagues seemed to have filled their need for information about German politics and changed the topic to the latest shows and events in Paris. Their conversation was a mishmash of French and English, and Q had difficulty keeping up. His mind started to wander as someone in the restaurant shouted, “Turn the radio louder. The German Parliament building was destroyed today.”
Unrelenting: Love and Resistance in Pre-War Germany Page 6
