The Serpent's Egg (13 page)

Max waited until they had the corridor to themselves. Then he whispered, ‘That was terrifying, Vigo. My legs were shaking.”

Vigo laughed. “That was nothing. Surely you’ve had your papers inspected before?”

“Of course I have, but never with a false identity card. I don’t think I’m suited to the life of a Communist spy.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

They stopped again at Welkenraedt where two disinterested Belgian policemen checked their papers. The last part of the journey took a meandering course through a series of rural valleys to the Belgian capital.

When they alighted from the train Vigo made straight for a shady-looking beer cellar in a back street close to the railway station. They took seats at the bar. Vigo ordered two beers.

A heavy-set man wearing a leather flat cap took the stool to Vigo’s right. He shook hands with Vigo, and Vigo introduced him to Max as ‘Gilbert.’

“Pleased to meet you, Comrade Gunther,” said the big man. He spoke German with a guttural accent.

Vigo placed the cigarette pack containing the secret message on the bar. Gilbert placed an identical pack beside it. After a few minutes conversation with Vigo, Gilbert picked up Vigo’s cigarette pack, shook hands again and he was gone. Vigo pocketed Gilbert’s cigarettes.

Max expected more drama than an exchange of cigarette packs after a 17-hour train journey. “Was that it?”

“The job is done,” said Vigo. “Tomorrow we go home.”

Max thought Belgian beer a passable substitute for the real thing. It was certainly far superior to any of the mass-produced German beers. He persuaded Vigo to buy a second round and left the Brauhaus with a broad smile on his face.

They spent the night in a travellers’ hotel, sharing a room.

Chapter 36

January 1939

Max slept like a stone. Vigo woke him early in the morning. They grabbed a quick breakfast and made their way back to the railway station to catch the early train back to Berlin.

When they arrived on the platform, Vigo hailed a young lady in a bucket hat. They kissed on both cheeks in the French style. Vigo introduced Gunther Schlurr and they shook hands.

Her name was Delma. A demure young lady with a pale complexion, wearing no make-up. She looked fragile.

They all boarded the train together. Delma and Vigo sat close together like intimates. Max was as broad-minded as the next man, but he thought the way Vigo acted toward Delma was not what one might expect from a celibate priest. For her part, Delma seemed totally enraptured by Vigo.

Delma slept, tucked under Vigo’s arm. Later, when Vigo fell asleep, Delma slipped out from under his arm, and Max spoke to her.

She told Max her story. She was born of Armenian parents in the Ottoman Empire. The Armenians were treated like vermin by the Turks. Her family fled and settled in Romania to escape the dreadful pogrom of 1915. In 1928, at the age of 14, Delma moved to Austria to take a position in service with a rich family. Then in 1930 both her parents disappeared under suspicious circumstances. She gave up her position to go back to Romania to search for them. She found no trace of her parents, and was brutally attacked by a gang of Hungarians before making her escape and crossing into Germany.

“And that was when you met Vigo?”

She looked at the sleeping priest and smiled. “Father Vigo gave me shelter and support in my grief. He looked after me until I was old enough to look after myself.”

“And was he the reason why you joined the Orchestra?”

“I hate the Turks with a passion. They are evil. I wanted to go back there and strike a blow against them. But what could one girl do against so many? Father Vigo showed me a better way. He taught me to control my hatred, to nurture it like a plant, and to find ways of fighting injustice from within. He directed my passion against the Nazis. The Nazis are every bit as evil as the Turks.”

She asked Max his story. He told her a little of his own childhood. How his father died in the War in 1916 leaving him alone with his unstable mother in the house in Wittenberg. And he told her about Anna and their plans to marry.

#

As they approached the German border, Vigo insisted that the trio should break up. He sent Max toward the back of the train to find a seat. He set off toward the front.

The train was boarded by a team of four Schupo, German uniform police. They worked their way through the train checking the papers of every passenger.

As Max handed his false identity card to a couple of officers, his knees began to tremble again. He held his breath. The policeman glanced at his identity card and handed it back without comment. Max exhaled. And the policemen moved on.

Max went in search of Vigo and Delma. They had a compartment to themselves near the back of the train. Delma was sleeping on the seats on one side of the compartment. Max sat beside Vigo on the other side.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you what you told your girlfriend about this trip,” said Vigo.

“I told her it was to do with work.”

Vigo looked at him through hooded eyes. “Nothing good ever comes of telling lies, and once you start it will be impossible to stop. Lies breed like rabbits, and pretty soon you won’t be able to remember what lies you’ve told and you’ll start to contradict yourself.”

“What are you saying?”

“You should tell her the truth.”

“All of it?”

“As much as you can. Don’t tell her anything secret or anything that might hurt her. But you should be honest about what you’ve been doing.”

For a moment Max thought Vigo was hinting that he knew of Max’s pact with the Gestapo. But how could he?

“You really think I should tell her about the Orchestra?”

“I do. If she has any spirit of humanity she will applaud you for striking a blow against the Nazis.”

Chapter 37

January 1939

Max opened the door to the apartment, removed his shoes and crept inside. With any luck Anna would be in bed asleep.

He found Anna asleep on the sofa, two candles sputtering on the table laid for a meal for two. He squeezed her shoulder to wake her.

She rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s after midnight. I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted.”

“I thought you’d be home much earlier. What kept you? I made you a special meal, but it’s probably ruined by now.”

“Never mind, Anna. I had a meal on the train.”

She went into the bathroom to freshen up. When she re-emerged he gave her a box of Belgian chocolates that he’d bought for her. She opened the box and selected one. Max helped himself to a couple.

They sat together on the sofa. Anna tucked herself under his arm. “Tell me about Belgium. Was it nice?”

“I suppose it was. Plenty of rolling countryside. Brussels has a lot of old buildings…”

“Do you think it’s somewhere you’d like to live? What are the people like?”

“The people seemed normal. There’s nothing remarkable about them.”

“No Brownshirts, I bet.”

“True. They looked like a peaceful lot.”

She snuggled closer. “Maybe we could live there after we’re married. Madam Krauss said we would travel by train. Did you see any snow-capped mountains?”

“I saw no mountains of any kind.”

#

Anna stood by the stove making the coffee. The morning sun streaming through the window caught her hair like a halo. She looked radiant – and happy. It would be a pity to disturb her mood. He sliced the top off his egg. Perhaps he would tell her the truth in the evening after work.

She bent over him. He lifted his face to her and she gave him a kiss on the lips. As she straightened her back she smiled sweetly at him and handed him his passport. “I found this in the wardrobe after you’d gone. Perhaps you could explain to me how you travelled to Brussels without it.”

Ah! Time to come clean.

“I need to tell you something, Anna.”

“Go on.”

“That trip to Brussels had nothing to do with my work.”

The coffee pot froze over his cup. “What do you mean?”

“You know how I hate the Nazis, how we both hate them? Well I’ve decided to do something about that. I’ve joined the Red Orchestra.”

The coffee pot trembled in her hand. “What do you mean, you’ve joined an orchestra? Don’t be crazy! You don’t play an instrument and you can’t sing.”

“It’s not a real orchestra. The Red Orchestra is the name the Gestapo has given to the Communist anti-Nazi movement run by friends of Frau Greta’s called Libertas and Harro.”

Her hand shot to her mouth. “You’re a Communist?”

“No, I’m not a Communist, but I’ve agreed to help them. The trip to Brussels was a courier run. I had to pass a coded intelligence message to the Communists in exile.”

“What was in this coded message?”

“I have no idea. My job was to pass it to a contact in Brussels.”

She pointed the coffee pot at him like a weapon. “You didn’t think to talk to me before joining this orchestra? Didn’t you think I would have an opinion about the matter?”

“I’m sorry, Anna. It just seemed like the right thing to do. You know how I hate the Nazis…”

“And aren’t we a couple? Shouldn’t we talk to one another before making important decisions? How can I trust you if you’re going to do things like this behind my back?”

She slammed the coffee pot on the stove, turned to face him, and expanded on the subject of trust. Max held his peace while she delivered a well-deserved tongue-lashing. The color in her cheeks rose. As she vented her feelings he thought she came close to breaking their engagement. That was the last thing he wanted, but if she called off the wedding he would no longer be under the thumb of the Gestapo! But of course that would make no difference to Framzl who would still expect him to complete the task. There was no escaping the Gestapo once they had their claws in you.

Eventually, her words dried up and she became calm. “So tell me how you crossed the border into Belgium without your passport and identity card?”

He showed her his false papers. She went through them slowly, wide-eyed. “I see you’re a pastor now!” She snorted. “Couldn’t you dream up a better name than Gunther Schlurr?”

“It wasn’t my choice, Anna.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “So suddenly you’re a Communist spy, going on missions to foreign countries.”

He ignored the sarcasm. “I travelled with an experienced courier.”

“A Communist?”

“No, a sympathizer, like me, a Roman Catholic priest called Vigo. He offered to marry us in his church.”

“I’ve already spoken to my own priest, Father Untermair.”

“He’s an old man, Anna. Vigo’s young. You’ll like him.”

Breakfast passed in silence. They were both going to be late for work.

On the way out the door, she said, “Tell me about this priest.”

“Father Vigo. He’s good fun.”

“Where’s his church?”

“St. Angar’s Church on Klopstockstrasss. It’s not too far from here.”

She hesitated. “Well, all right, talk to him.
I thought maybe Saturday March 11 would be a good date for our wedding.”

“You don’t think a later date would be better?”

“Why later? We agreed March, and Saturday is the best day for a wedding. Talk to your priest friend.” She opened her bag and pulled out their Reich Marriage Authorization. “Take this with you. He’ll need that before he can
read the banns.”

They reached his tram stop. A tram drew up. As he stepped on board, she called out to him, “Isn’t it time you selected your witness?”

Chapter 38

January 1939

He dropped from the moving tram as it turned the corner at Halensee. A black car drew up beside him. A voice said, “Get in.”

Sitting in the back of the car, Framzl the Gestapo man, held the door open. Max climbed in. They drove as far as Hohenzollerndamm Bahnhof where they turned right and accelerated south.

“Herr Framzl…”

Framzl put a finger to his lips. Max was grateful for the chance to gather his thoughts. What could he say to this man? He hadn’t found the source of the leaflets, but he had met a few members of the Red Orchestra, Frau Greta, Madam Krauss, Vigo, Himpel the dentist, Bruno and Riese, the Communists, and Delma, but he couldn’t give any of those away. He would have to stonewall Framzl, play for time.

The car sped past a line of trees, flashing through bright sunlight. On and on they went, further and further from the city center. At last they turned right, and came to a halt in the Grunewald Forest. The driver switched off the engine.

Framzl removed his cap and wiped his forehead, revealing his widow’s peak. “Now we can talk. What do you have for me?”

“I’m sorry, Herr Framzl, I haven’t discovered where the subversive leaflets are being printed.”

“But you have joined the Red Orchestra?”

“Yes, sir. I am a trusted member of the group. I expect to discover the printer location soon.”

“You have the names of other members?”

“Only the actress, Libertas.”

Framzl frowned. “You were seen boarding a train with a man dressed in tweed.”

“That was Frobisher, a distant cousin from London. I promised to show him the city of Cologne.”

“You showed him the cathedral?”

“Yes, he was most impressed. They have nothing like it in England.”

“I believe the building started in the Thirteenth Century. Do you recall when it was completed?”

“The foundation stone was laid in 1248, but the building wasn’t completed until 1880.”

Framzl grunted. “Where is this Englishman now?”

“He’s moved on. I believe his next stop was in Belgium and then Holland before returning to England on a ferry.”