Berlin Wolf (24 page)

‘It can't be, can it?' Peter asked, uncertain of what he was looking at.

Peter and Franz stopped and stared. Wolfi strained on his lead, barking noisily. The Nazi seizure of power and the subsequent war had turned life upside down to such an extent that many bizarre sites seemed common place in Berlin. Even for these strange times, this was something unheard of. The two boys were in the Tiergarten, just off the Charlottenburger Chaussee. The area brought back happy memories as it was close to Aunt Berta's house.

In the centre of the park was a large ornamental fountain. In the water surrounding the fountain was a giraffe drinking and splashing water. The water was obviously much colder than it was used to, as it coughed from time to time. It was November and very cold. A few metres away, and eyeing up the giraffe, was a lion. It appeared as if the lion was uncertain whether the giraffe had the physical advantage and so was unsure whether to strike.

Behind the lion was a keeper with a net and a long pole. On the end of the pole was a loop of rope, presumably to restrain the lion. Behind the keeper was a crowd of Berliners egging the unfortunate man closer and closer. He would creep a few steps towards the lion and then a few steps back, as the lion periodically turned towards him.

Some of the crowd were wondering what giraffe or lion might taste like as it was so long since proper meat had graced their tables. For most however, it was the best entertainment they had enjoyed for many long months. It was a welcome respite from the tribulations of everyday life, especially the terrifying bombing raids that had destroyed much of Berlin, including the zoo that very day.

Peter and Franz left the park smiling. Wolfi was still keen to herd the escaped animals. Like most of the crowd they were supporting the lion and the giraffe. Unfortunately they did not have time to dawdle any further for they were on their way to the new island camp. Currently it was occupied by just two people, a young married couple who had taken to their new surroundings very well. After life in a cramped cellar, the couple found life on the island much more bearable, especially as they had decided to treat it as the honeymoon they never had. Peter and Franz were making the weekly visit with supplies of everyday items they could not obtain, most importantly salt.

There was another purpose to their visit. They were going to live on the island for a few days. Peter relished the prospect. He enjoyed the comfortable surroundings of Lotte's apartment and the companionship of his friends. There were times however when the simplicity of life in the outdoors appealed to him. Especially at this new camp where less caution was required. He particularly enjoyed spending the whole day with Wolfi.

The reason for their temporary exile was the impending return of Lotte's husband, Eric. He now believed they were Lotte's cousins, but it would arouse suspicion if they were once more on leave.

Lotte's telephone call the previous day had the desired effect. In spite of his position in the Party and in government, even Lotte's husband feared the consequences if his boss Göring were to discover he had been hoarding looted treasure for himself. Any rewards for subordinates were to be granted by Göring alone.

And so as Peter and Franz journeyed to the island hideaway, Lotte's husband was pacing up and down inside the apartment. Ever since his arrival he had appeared nervous. He had barely greeted his wife and had sneaked out of bed in the night to whisper a phone conversation, to whom, Lotte knew not.

Eventually he stopped his pacing and putting on his overcoat and hat, then left the building with a large brown parcel under his arm. He said nothing to Lotte about where he was going, but she noticed that, unusually, he did not take the official car, preferring to walk. This was unheard of and aroused even greater suspicion in her mind. On the wall above the sideboard in the dining room, a white rectangular space, framed by dust, stared back at her where an oil painting had once hung.

As he left the building, the distracted Eric did not notice the elderly well-dressed man behind him. Both walked for about twenty minutes then descended to the platforms at Potsdamer Station. The Professor watched from a distance as Lotte's husband purchased a ticket to Friedenau, a wealthy upper-middle class district. The Professor calmly bought his ticket for the train and soon, the two men were standing on the platform, apart by some fifteen metres. They entered separate compartments when the train pulled up, five minutes later.

At their destination the Professor allowed his quarry to leave the train first. On reaching street level, Lotte's husband turned left and walked about two kilometres, stopping at a large apartment block set back from the street. Without turning around he climbed the steps and pressed a bell at the top of a row of four. The Professor watched as a very pretty young woman opened the door. She had long blonde hair and in appearance looked similar to Lotte. She was about twenty-five and very well-dressed. The impression that she might be the man's niece was quickly dispelled by the apparently passionate kiss that she gave him.

When the pair had disappeared inside, the Professor mounted the steps and tried the door. It was locked. As he contemplated his next move he read the name from the doorbell: ‘Miss Elise Ritter'. He was about to take a chance and ring another of the doorbells, when a postwoman arrived at the top of the steps. She was tired and undernourished and fed up with feet that had blistered again. The soles of her shoes had long since worn through.

‘Anything for my granddaughter, Elise, Elise Ritter?' the Professor said, before adding helpfully, ‘I can take it up to her if you wish.'

The weary postwoman was surprised, if pleased by the offer and readily handed over the small brown envelope. There were no other deliveries to the building that day.

By this means the Professor established not only the name of the young lady, but her precise address too. When the postwoman was out of view he slid the envelope under the front door, having first memorised the address.

Back on the pavement he remained at a safe distance from the front door and watched. Twenty minutes later he observed as Lotte's husband stood on the doorstep and kissed the young Elise then made his way down the steps and back to the station. He no longer had the parcel under his arm.

The Professor did not follow him, instead stayed in position a little longer. Not knowing what to expect or hoped to discover, he decided that a further half an hour's surveillance might be useful. In the event he did not have to wait half an hour until Elise came out the front door, a large canvas bag under her arm. He could just see the top of a brown paper parcel protruding from the bag.

He followed Elise to the station where she caught a train to Zoo Station. From the Zoo Station he watched from afar as she walked towards Kurfürstendamm, one of Berlin's most prestigious shopping streets.

Passing the memorial church on the right, she hurried westwards along the Ku'damm until she stopped in front of a shop window. The Professor was stationed on the other side of the street. Even in wartime the Ku'damm was crowded and therefore no-one paid him any attention. Once the young woman had disappeared into the shop, he crossed the street. As he was stepping onto the opposite pavement he saw the sign in the door to the shop turn around to read ‘closed' and heard a bolt pulled to one side. He leaned towards the shop window and peered inside. The shop was full of mostly junk, and some genuinely valuable antiques. At the back there were a few oil paintings of reasonable quality.

Positioned to one side of the window the Professor appeared to be admiring a particularly fine, antique cuckoo clock. From his vantage point, however, he could just see the torsos of two people, Elise and a much older man. On the floor was the oil painting from Lotte's dining room with the brown paper covering partly torn away. The hand of the man reached out towards the girl and the Professor was able to distinguish a large bundle of Reichsnotes, which were passed from one to the other. The Professor was slightly embarrassed as the girl pulled aside her overcoat and hitching up her skirt, deposited the notes in a pocket.

The Professor was on the verge of turning around when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

‘Interested in young ladies are we Grandpa?' a stern voice said. The Professor spun around on the spot to see a policeman, thankfully from the criminal police not the secret police. The policeman was smiling to himself.

‘No. No!' the Professor blustered. ‘I was admiring that clock. A cuckoo clock from Switzerland. There are only two things that Switzerland has to be proud of. The cuckoo clock and chocolate. They are cowards for not supporting us in the war.'

‘Okay! Okay Grandpa!' the policeman replied, almost laughing. The vehemence of this funny old man's denial had surprised him. But he was right about Switzerland.

‘On your way then. And don't let me catch you admiring too many more cuckoo clocks.' As he said this the policeman winked. The Professor did not wait and tipping his hat hurried away. He was a little red in the face.

* * *

At her apartment Lotte had removed the white vase in the window to show the Professor that it was safe to enter.

‘A peeping Tom, eh, Professor?' Lotte teased. She had not been surprised to learn of Elise's existence. She had long suspected as much.

‘At least we know where the paintings are kept and where we can sell them,' she said, thinking out loud. ‘We must act quickly. Eric may only have sold the one painting as it was a clear link to him. Or he may have taken fright and decided to sell the lot, one or two at a time.'

The Professor did not speak. He was still thinking about peeping Toms.

‘I wonder,' Lotte said, and failed to finish her sentence. The Professor looked at her. He was intrigued. Another scheme was being hatched.

Two days later Peter and Franz were back at Lotte's apartment. Her husband had stayed for just one day and so, Lotte reasoned, he was not intending to sell any more paintings. She had not been idle since the discovery of Elise's whereabouts. Pretending that her car had broken down, she had rung the doorbell to Elise's apartment and asked whether she could use the telephone. It was no surprise to learn that her husband had not paid to have a phone installed at his mistress's address. He no doubt begrudged paying the rent for her and was certainly not going to stretch to the cost of a phone, in spite of his enormous wealth. Anytime he wanted to see her he would simply turn up and expect her to be there.

‘Eric's secretive late night phone call must have been to the antiques dealer,' she reasoned.

Furthermore, it was clear that Elise did not go out to work, something confirmed by the Professor, who kept watch outside the address.

Lotte knew she was taking a chance by undertaking this excursion, but she had been keen to see her rival. It shocked her somewhat to discover that she was very similar to her in appearance, just a little younger. Her main purpose had been achieved. They now knew that Eric was unable to phone his mistress either at home or work.

Upon returning home, Lotte sat down with Franz to draft a letter. The contents were brief, yet it took some time to write as Franz patiently copied samples of handwriting and practised the same signature, over and over.

Finally, after hours of hard work the completed letter was sealed in an envelope and addressed to Elise Ritter, in Friedenau. Lotte took the letter to the post office herself and was pleased when the clerk confirmed it would be delivered the following day.

Three days after the Professor had discovered Elise's existence and the purchaser of the paintings, Herr Riesen was waiting outside the antiques shop in the Kurfürstendamm. He was uncomfortably attired. It was not the cut or the fit of his clothing that made him uncomfortable, it was what he was wearing. The Gestapo did not have an official uniform for its detectives, but they wore one nonetheless. It consisted of leather hat, boots and long leather coat, all black. Everyone knew the Gestapo when they saw them. He wondered at how his circumstances had changed, when just a few months ago he carefully avoided bumping into anyone wearing this garb, now here he was clad head to foot in black leather. He could feel people's eyes hastily turning away from him, unable to hide their fear.

Herr Riesen had been more than happy to help Lotte when she had requested his assistance. Now he wished he had been more circumspect. He owed his life to Lotte and her friends. He understood they needed funds to continue their activities, but could he really pass himself off as an inspector from the Gestapo? He could see that the Professor was too old to play the detective, and Franz and Peter too young. He had been the only possible choice. What worried him most was the knowledge that he was about to ‘arrest' the mistress of the powerful man who had recommended him for his post as caretaker.

As Herr Riesen debated the merits of the situation with himself, he heard the jingle of bells as the door to the antiques shop opened and the pretty young girl emerged. She had acted upon the letter written apparently by her lover and was in the process of selling more paintings. As per instructions she had not contacted him since receipt of the letter.

Across the street, Peter nodded to him and some twenty or so metres from the shop, Herr Riesen approached the girl. Holding up his false identification card in its leather wallet, he spoke sternly saying: ‘Miss Elise Ritter? I am arresting you for handling stolen art treasures. Do you have anything to say?'

Elise Ritter went pale and Herr Riesen feared she was about to faint. Thankfully in her shock it did not occur to her that the Gestapo always arrived in pairs and this man was alone. Nor did she notice that apart from flashing an identity card, he had not said his name.

‘Now Miss Ritter, I know you have a large amount of money on your person. Either you hand it over to me or I will have to remove it from you right here in the street.' Herr Riesen prayed she would indeed hand over the money there and then.