Berlin Wolf (22 page)

‘You have twenty-four hours. If you do not agree to my terms then I will tell your husband about the many male visitors. I am sure he would be very interested.' Herr Klein grinned once more and left the apartment.

Lotte sat down. She was glad he had gone, the odious man. She smiled to herself at the idea that he thought her late night visitor, Peter, and the other men, were lovers. If only he knew what they were really doing. In spite of her amusement, she knew that this was a serious problem and required careful consideration.

Later that day, the Professor arrived at the apartment. Lotte had wanted to leave. She now feared that she may be followed, and the last thing she desired was to disclose the Professor's address. When the little man appeared at the door she was delighted.

Without stopping to either greet him or offer any hospitality, Lotte put on her coat and taking him by the arm, led him down the steps from the building. She put a finger to her lips to indicate the need for silence at that point. Herr Klein might still be around.

They need not have worried for at that very time Herr Klein was celebrating his good fortune in a nearby pub. This was the opportunity he had craved for so long. The residents under his care were all very wealthy and mostly snooty. Especially that Lotte! What had she done to deserve so many privileges? He had worked hard all his life and had nothing to show for it. As he sipped his pilsner beer and gulped the schnaps chaser, he planned what he would do with all the money he was going to extort.

Meanwhile Lotte and the Professor walked towards the Brandenburg Gate where they met with Peter and Franz. Lotte greeted them in her usual fashion with a peck on the cheek.

‘We have a lot to discuss,' she said. ‘Come to my apartment in twenty minutes. If the coast is clear I will signal to you from the window. My husband is not due back for another two hours.'

Lotte and the Professor returned to her apartment. The only way that she could think of to ascertain whether Herr Klein was at home was to brazenly knock on his door. There was no reply. She prayed that he was indeed out of the way.

When Peter and Franz arrived on the pavement outside, she pulled back the curtain slightly and waved to them. Once inside she came straight to the point.

‘Herr Klein is trying to blackmail me,' she said calmly.

‘Then what are we waiting for we have to clear out and take everything incriminating with us,' Peter replied.

‘No it's nothing to do with our work, Peter. He thinks that you and Franz are more than just my friends,' Lotte said.

Peter and Franz were surprised, though a little pleased, to learn that they were suspected lovers.

‘He might have thought I was a lover,' the Professor said, feigning upset. They laughed.

They debated the best response for some time, eventually agreeing on a plan. It was perilous, although in the circumstances necessary. Having questioned Lotte further about Wolfi, Peter and Franz left, satisfied that tomorrow Wolfi would be with them once more. Shortly after they left, the Professor said his farewell, taking the same route as his friends, only at a distance so that he could observe whether they were being followed. They were not. By now Herr Klein was slumped on the bar, his drinking companions bemused as to the source of his exceptional good humour.

The next day Peter was awake long before his friends. He was a little apprehensive about their plan, but mostly excited to see Wolfi again. Lotte had offered to collect Wolfi from the vet's surgery and deliver him to Peter. In spite of the danger involved, Peter had insisted that he wanted to be there when he was discharged from the vet's care. None of the others begrudged him this indulgence. He would meet Lotte there. Her husband was as busy as ever and was unlikely to be home all day. She had made him promise though that whatever happened he would return by five that afternoon.

Outside the vet's practice Peter stood waiting for Lotte. She was just a few minutes late, and as a result he was already impatient. When she did arrive it was in her husband's car and she was at the wheel.

‘Lotte, how did you manage to persuade Eric to let you have the car?' Peter was intrigued and delighted.

‘Oh I can twist Eric around my little finger,' she said, not entirely truthfully. ‘And we couldn't let Wolfi walk home, could we?'

‘What about the damage to the runner board? What did he say about that?' he asked.

‘They left so early that it was still dark. Neither he nor the driver noticed and when they did they thought it must have been caused by another vehicle.'

He wondered whether to bother about his next question as to how she had covered the shortage of petrol in the tank. She knew what he was thinking and said, ‘I told him it had probably been siphoned off.'

Lotte rang the bell. Dr Messner was a sole practitioner and had long ago dispensed with his receptionist and nurse and so answered the door himself. Times were very hard, especially in his profession.

Inside the vet took them straight through to the back of the building where Wolfi was resting in a cage. His ears pricked up as soon as he saw Peter and he began pawing at the door. His thick tail was beating the metal sides. Peter could hardly believe the difference from the half-dead animal he had brought there a few days ago. Outside the cage Wolfi washed Peter's face as the boy bent towards him and rubbed his head.

‘Not too much excitement. He still needs rest,' the vet cautioned. ‘He was fortunate. Without the blood transfusion he would not have made it.'

‘What? I thought you didn't have any blood?' Peter said, confused. The vet was about to respond when Lotte interrupted.

‘Let's not worry about that. Let's just get him home.' Her face and manner told Peter that she had been responsible.

‘Who else?' he thought. Peter reached into a pocket and produced a diamond ring set in gold.

‘It is my mother's,' he said and held it out to the vet. ‘This should cover the bill.'

‘No need,' the vet said, ‘I have been paid enough already.' He looked adoringly at Lotte. ‘You have brought back the only woman I ever loved.'

Unusually Lotte blushed. Lotte and the vet embraced and then with Peter and Wolfi she left the premises. They drove straight to the Professor's flat. In other circumstances they would have parked a few streets away. This time they wanted to shorten the walk for a weakened Wolfi.

Peter carried his dog up the stairs to the Professor's apartment. Once inside Wolfi was fussed by both the Professor and Franz. They spent the rest of the day inside, Lotte having returned home in the car. She did not want any more awkward questions about her whereabouts.

Wolfi slept most of the time, snoring with his head in Peter's lap. When three o'clock came the Professor and Franz left together and walked to Luisenstrasse. They waited outside on the pavement, slightly out of view of the apartment until Lotte signalled that Herr Klein was not in. Peter had desperately wanted to accompany them, but he was persuaded to stay and look after Wolfi.

* * *

At Lotte's apartment they discussed their plan once more and made their final preparations. They drank coffee until at exactly twenty minutes to five there was a knock at the door. Franz and the Professor hid in the master bedroom. Lotte opened the door, having first hidden the coffee cups.

‘Come in, come in Herr Klein.' She beckoned him. He still wore the irritating and stupid grin. He had come prepared for an argument and was therefore surprised when Lotte seemed to greet him almost warmly.

‘Before we get down to business, would you like a cognac?' she asked. The alcoholic Herr Klein struggled with Herr Klein the cold, calculating blackmailer. The alcoholic Klein won. Only one. He would keep his wits about him.

‘Sit down. Sit down,' Lotte said, gesturing towards the smaller sofa.

To his surprise she sat down beside him, uncomfortably close. She was in a tailor made, close fitting blue and cream dress with buttons up the front and as always looked very alluring.

‘Come Herr Klein, drink up. It's good cognac'. She knocked back the contents of the glass. He eyed the glass suspiciously, until seeing her drink, he did likewise.

‘Now about the money,' he began. He got no further as Lotte leaned forward and placed her index finger on his lip.

‘Shush,' she said, ‘let's not talk about money just yet. It's so common.'

Herr Klein was now even more suspicious. He was about to move away when she grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him closer to her face. It was so unexpected he ended up sprawled on top of her.

‘Click! Click!' The noise of the shutter was accompanied only by the bright flash of the camera. The photographer had sneaked up behind and with Franz's camera photographed the incriminating scene. Or at least that was the impression given by the flash.

Hearing the camera click and seeing the light, Herr Klein sprang to his feet. As he did so there was a further flash and he turned just in time to see Lotte with her hair tousled and half the buttons of her dress torn off.

‘What the hell are you doing?' Herr Klein was shaken and angry.

Lotte was by now quite composed. ‘It's simple,' she said. ‘My husband is due back in a few minutes. As you know he is a very powerful man and very jealous. Unless you drop this blackmail I will tell him that you attacked me and we have the photographs to prove it.'

‘That's ridiculous,' Herr Klein said, almost spitting out the words. ‘He will not believe that you happened to have a photographer standing by.'

‘Oh but he will, Herr Klein.' She emphasised the ‘Klein' and went on to say: ‘He was asked to be here at five precisely for a surprise. The surprise is that I have arranged a family photograph. My friend, the photographer, was in the bathroom when you arrived and you proceeded to assault me. He saw I was able to defend myself and so thought, quite properly, that first he should capture the evidence. It will certainly speed up the trial at the People's Court. I hear Dr. Freisler has an eye for the ladies.'

‘He'll never believe that,' Herr Klein said with venom in his voice, seeing his great opportunity slipping away. He was unable to hide his terror at the mention of the dreaded People's Court and its even more dreaded President, Dr. Freisler. Lotte could see her words were taking effect and so she continued.

‘My husband has already commented on the way you have been looking at me. He will not find it difficult to believe that you tricked your way in under some pretence and then assaulted me. As for my friend's action in photographing the event, rather than trying to save me, he will applaud him for his common sense and cool thinking under pressure.'

Herr Klein did not respond so she played her trump card. ‘Do you want to risk it? Take a look at that letter on the desk.'

Herr Klein walked anxiously to the desk and picking up a piece of writing paper began to read.

There followed a long list of names which appeared quite authentic. They were genuine victims of the regime known to the Professor. The typed name and signature at the bottom was that of Lotte's husband. The letter heading was from the ‘Reichs Security Headquarters'. The signature was stamped with the eagle clutching the swastika. The same stamp Franz had used so often. This was a masterpiece of forgery and Lotte was convinced even Himmler himself would have accepted it as genuine.

‘Well Herr Klein. Do you want to gamble with your life? Your name can easily be added to the list. In the meantime you can be questioned by the Gestapo for a number of days, maybe weeks.' By now Lotte could see the ploy had worked. Herr Klein was for an alcoholic, unusually white. To clinch the deal she pointed to an envelope on the mantelpiece and told him to take it.

‘In that envelope is a considerable amount of money. It is less than a quarter of what you asked for. No doubt you planned to ask for more, again and again. It is still much more than you deserve. This is the deal. You leave Berlin and do not return. You can easily start a new life with that money. We will hold onto the photographs. If anything happens to me or any of my friends, or my husband hears of my little ‘indiscretions' we will assume it was you and you will be arrested. Agreed?'

Having outlined the terms of the offer, Lotte stood back and waited for a short time, finally saying, ‘Do we have a deal? My husband is due any minute. Do we have a deal?'

Sheepishly Herr Klein mumbled ‘yes'. He had been outwitted.

‘Then get out! You have until tomorrow lunchtime to disappear for good. When you do you will leave a letter to your superiors, recommending this person to replace you, as suggested by my husband.' She handed a piece of paper to the defeated caretaker and indicated with her eyes that he should go.

Herr Klein did not wait any longer and virtually ran from the apartment. When he had disappeared out the door, the photographer ran to Lotte and hugged her.

‘Bravo! Bravo! Simply magnificent,' he enthused and began to remove his disguise. Fortunately Herr Klein had not recognised the Professor.

In days gone by she would have taken a bow and bathed in the limelight. Her husband's arrival was imminent. It was essential that he arrive soon to confirm Lotte's story. They needed to destroy the fake letter and any sign of Herr Klein's presence. The Professor and Franz must get out as soon as possible. Lotte was exhausted. It was a trying role. She was grateful that it had not turned nasty and Franz's assistance had not been required. They could never know if Herr Klein would stick to the deal. At least, for now, the problem had gone away.

* * *

The annoying difficulty of Herr Klein and his failed blackmail attempt turned out to be a blessing. Not only had their chosen solution rid them of the prying eyes of Herr Klein, Lotte's ingenuity had permitted them to install the caretaker of their choice. Usually the appointment of a new caretaker and block warden would have followed official procedures. Herr Klein's apartment was quite small, but desirable, being located in a magnificent block in a prime location in the city. As such there would have been many willing candidates for the post, and many eager to bribe the appropriate person. Accommodation throughout the city was very scarce.

Lotte's candidate was an excellent choice. A member of the Party, with two young children to support, he was skilled at domestic maintenance and had recently been bombed out of his home. The fact that he was a violinist and not a caretaker, and the fact that he was a Jew in hiding, she did not disclose.

At first the violinist had been hesitant. Lotte's apartment block was full of the very people who had often attended his concerts. If he had regular maintenance tasks to perform he would come into contact with them much too regularly, he had argued. The major flaw though was that he was neither a skilled plumber nor electrician.

‘Not to worry,' Lotte reassured him, ‘Herr Klein could do none of those things either. His main function was to spy on the residents.' At the mention of spying the violinist had gone pale.

‘Oh don't worry. If you have to report on someone I will give you the names of the ardent Nazis in the block. You can say they were listening to foreign radio. Most of them do. Or, better, you can report that the presence of my husband means no-one dare step out of line. Perhaps that would be safer.' Lotte was teasing a little.

When she had finished giving the new caretaker his disguise, he finally relented. ‘Where better to hide a prisoner, than in prison,' he said.

And so, days after the hated Herr Klein had departed so abruptly, the new caretaker, ‘Herr Riesen' was installed. Naturally a few noses were out of joint that such a plumb job had been filled so quickly. When Lotte's husband made the phone call at her request, the minor officials involved did not dare to protest. Lotte had stifled a giggle as her husband bellowed on the phone, ‘Of course he's in the Party. He's a good Nazi. I can personally vouch for him. There's no need to check him out. I have interviewed him myself and examined his papers and he is definitely one of us. Now that is the end of the matter.'

Herr Riesen had been interviewed by the great man, in person. It was a frightening ordeal, though helpfully the concert violinist was used to performing. He had not flinched as the newly acquired identity card and Party membership card were scrutinised. He had hidden his disgust as he was questioned as to the merits of the concentration camps. He had even impressed his interrogator with his obvious hatred of the Jew. It was a fine performance. The interview had ended quite abruptly with Lotte's husband saying, ‘Good man. Make sure the boiler works. I hate a cold bath. I suppose my wife is safe from you?'

Without waiting for a reply he left the room. Part of Lotte's persuasion had been to contrast the lecherous, bachelor Herr Klein with the family man, Herr Riesen. It had done the trick.

The group of friends were much more relaxed that evening as they sat with Wolfi in the Professor's apartment. They had rescued a family of three and provided them with accommodation and an income. In the same move they had a friendly lookout, capable and willing to assist.