Zoo Station (13 page)

They had been looking for it for almost an hour, ever since playing hide-and-seek with their probably imaginary Gestapo tail in the Neukolln branch of the KaDeWe department store. The object of their quest had, according to McKinley, told them to make sure they were not followed, and he had done his best to oblige, leading Russell into the store by the main entrance and out through the kitchens, pursued only by the shouts of an enraged chef. They had then headed east on foot, turning this way and that down a succession of rapidly darkening and profoundly unwelcoming streets. Russell had expected streams of workers returning home, but they had only come across a few, and McKinleys requests for navigational assistance had been met with either guarded suspicion or outright hostility. Russell had wondered whether the young American could feel the money burning a hole in his pocket. There were lights behind the curtains of the residential streets, but they felt far away.

This street, Schonlanker Strasse, was no exception. The block they were looking for was the last, pushed up against the elevated tracks of what was probably a freight line. As they reached the entrance another source of light came into viewthe red glow of a signal hanging in the darkness.

The limp swastika hanging over the entrance looked like it hadnt been washed since 1933. Entering the dimly lit hall, they found the concierges door. McKinley tried two taps with the door-knockertoo softly, Russell thought, but the door swung open almost immediately. A middle-aged woman with a rather striking face ushered them inside and quickly closed the door behind them.

Who is this? she asked McKinley with an angry gesture toward Russell. She had a thick Rhenish accent, which explained why the American had so much trouble understanding her.

Hes a friend. He speaks better German than I do, McKinley explained, rather in the manner of someone reassuring a foolish child.

She gave Russell another look, thought for a moment, then shrugged. Come through, she said shortly.

The living room was clean but almost bare. There were no comfortable chairs, only a couple of stools beside a small table and what looked like homemade cushions on the floor. A tattered but once-expensive rug occupied the center of the wooden floor. A girl of around five or six was sitting on it, leaning forward over a drawing she was working on. She didnt look up when they entered.

Thats Marietta, the woman said. She gets very absorbed in what shes doing, she added, as if she needed to explain the childs lack of reaction.

Her name, as McKinley had already told Russell, was Theresa Jurissen. She was younger than hed first thoughtaround 35, probablybut she looked both exhausted and malnourished. Only the eyes, a penetrating gray, seemed full of energy.

Please take the chairs, she said, but McKinley insisted that she take one. He remained standing, his lanky bulk seeming somewhat incongruous in the center of the room. Apparently realizing as much, he retreated to a wall.

Have you brought the money? Frau Jurissen asked, almost apologetically. This was not a woman who was used to poverty, Russell thought. This is the only work I can do and look after her all day.

McKinley produced his wallet, and counted what looked like several hundred Reichsmarks into her hand. She looked at the pile for a moment, and then abruptly folded the notes over, and placed them in the pocket of her housecoat. So, where shall I begin? she asked.

McKinley wasted no time. You said in your letter that you could not keep silent when childrens lives were at stake, he said, pronouncing each word with the utmost care. What made you think they were?

She placed her hands on the table, one covering the other. I couldnt believe it at first, she said, then paused to get her thoughts in order. I worked for the Brandenburg health ministry for over ten years. In the medical supplies department. I visited hospitals and asylums on a regular basis, checking inventories, anticipating demandsyou understand?

McKinley nodded.

After the Nazi takeover most of the women in my department were encouraged to resign, but my husband was killed in an accident a few weeks after I had Marietta, and they knew I was the only bread-winner in the family. They wanted me to find another husband, of course, but until that happened . . . well, I was good at my job, so they had no real excuse to fire me. She looked up. Im sorry. You dont need to know all this. She looked across at her daughter, who had still shown no sign of recognition that anyone else was in the room. I suppose I knew from the start that she wasnt, well, ordinary, but I told myself she was just very shy, very self-absorbed. . . . I mean, some adults are like thatthey hardly notice that anyone else exists. She sighed. But I got to the point where I knew I had to do something, take her to see someone. I knew that might mean shed be sterilized, but . . . well, if she stayed the way she is now, shed never notice whether she had any children or not. Anyway, I took her to a clinic in Potsdam, and they examined her and tested her and said they needed to keep her under observation for a few weeks. I didnt want to leave her there, but they told me not be selfish, that Marietta needed professional care if she was ever to come out of her shell.

Did they threaten you? McKinley asked.

No, not really. They were just impatient with me. Shocked that I didnt immediately accept that they knew best.

Like most doctors, Russell murmured.

Perhaps. And maybe they were completely genuine. Maybe Marietta does need whatever it is they have to offer.

So you took her away? McKinley asked.

I had to. Just two days after I left her in the clinic I was at the Falkenheide asylumyou know it? Its just outside Furstenwalde. I was in the staff canteen, checking through their orders over a cup of coffee when I became aware of the conversation at the next table. I tried to ignore it, but I couldnt. And they were speaking quite normallythere was nothing clandestine about it. In a way that was what was most shocking about itthey assumed that their topic of conversation was common knowledge. As far as the asylum staff were concerned, that is. She paused, and glanced across at Marietta. What they were talking about was a letter which had been sent out by the Ministry of Justice to all directors of asylums. That letter wanted the directors opinions on how they should change the law to allow the killing of incurable children. Should they announce a new law, or should they issue administrative decrees and keep the public in ignorance? This is what the people at the next table were debating, even joking about. Three of them were doctors I recognized, and the woman looked like a senior nurse.

This was all spelled out? Russell asked incredulously. He instinctively trusted hercould see no reason for her to liebut her scene in the canteen sounded like one of those stage conversations written to update the audience.

No, she said, giving Russell an indignant look. They were talking more about how the parents would react, whether they would prefer to hear that their children had simply died of whatever illness they had. It was only when I read the letter that it all made sense.

How? Where? McKinley asked excitedly.

Like I said, I was in that job a long time. I was on good terms with people in all the asylums. I knew I had to see the letter for myself, and I waited for a chance. A few days later a director was called out early, and I pretended I had to work late. I found the letter in his office.

I wish youd kept it, McKinley said, more to himself than her.

I did, she said simply.

You did! McKinley almost shouted, levering himself off the wall hed been leaning against. Where is it? Can we see it?

Not now. I dont have it here.

How much do you need? Russell asked.

Another five hundred Reichsmarks? The question mark was infinitesimal.

Thats McKinley began.

Good business sense, Russell completed for him. She needs the money, he added in English.

Yes, of course, McKinley agreed. I just dont know how. . . . But Ill get it. Shall I come back here? he asked her.

No, she said. Its too risky for me. Send the money to the posterestante on Heiligegeiststrasse. When I get it, Ill send you the letter.

Itll be there by tomorrow evening, McKinley said, as he printed out the Neuenburgerstrasse address.

Russell stood up. Did you have any trouble getting Marietta back? he asked Theresa Jurissen.

Yes, she said. They wouldnt let me take her. I had to steal my own child. Thats why were here in this place.

They all looked down at the girl. Her drawing looked like a forest after a hurricane had hit it. I wish you luck, Russell said.

He and McKinley reached the street as a coal train thundered over the arches, and set about retracing their steps. It was raining now, the streets even emptier, the rare neighborhood bar offering a faint splash of light and noise. They didnt speak until they reached the tram stop on Berlinerstrasse.

If you get this story out, itll be your last one from Germany, Russell said.

McKinley grinned at him. Worth it, though, dont you think?

Russell saw the excitement in the young Americans eyes, like an echo of his own younger self. He felt a pang of envy. Yes, I do, he agreed.

RUSSELLS FIRST PORT OF CALL
on the following morning was about ten kilometers, and several worlds, away from Schonlankerstrasse. The villa, just around the corner from the State Archive in the wealthy suburb of Dahlem, was surrounded by trees full of singing birds, most of whom were probably warbling their gratitude to the Fuhrer. In Schonlankerstrasse it was probably still raining in the dark, but here the sun shone down out of a clear blue sky. The coffee had not been as good since the Jewish cook had been allowed to leave, but everyone had to make sacrifices.

His pupil Greta was a sixteen-year-old with no interest in learning English. She did, however, like practicing her flirting techniques on him. Today it was a new wide-eyed expression which she seemed to think was appealing. She was, he had to admit, a lesson in the nature of beauty. When hed first set eyes on her, hed been struck by how gorgeous she was. After eighteen months of getting to know her, he found her marginally more attractive than Herman Goering. Her grasp of English had hardly improved at all in that time, but that didnt seem to worry anybody. Her father, a doctor of similar age to Wiesner, had not been cursed with the same tainted blood.

An hour later, richer in Reichsmarks but poorer in spirit, Russell retraced his steps down the sunny avenues to the Dahlem-Dorf Ubahn station. Changing at Wittenbergplatz, he bought a paper at a platform kiosk and glanced through it on the ride to Alexanderplatz. The Swiss were the latest target: As neutrals, a lead writer announced, they should refrain from expressing opinions about other countries and refuse to take in refugees. The Germans, on the other hand, should get their colonies back. Three reasons were given. The first was inalienable right, whatever that was. The second was economic need, which presumably came under the inalienable right to loot. The third, which made Russell laugh out loud, was Germanys right to share in the education of backward peoples. Thanks to her racial principles, the writer announced confidently, the Third Reich stands in the front rank of Powers in this respect. Russell thought about this for a while, and decided it could only mean that Germany was well-placed to educate the backward peoples in how deserving their backwardness was.

At Alexanderplatz he picked up the previous Saturdays
Daily Mail
for the girls, and discovered that rain was likely to affect the weekends English cup ties. Several columns were given over to Schachts dismissal, and he found three other articles on German matters. This, as McKinley had said, was where the story was.

Most interesting to Russell, though, was the picture on the back page of the streamlined steam locomotive
Coronation
, hanging between ship and quay en route to America for some celebration or other. He would keep that for Paul.

He thought about his son as the tram ground its way northwest toward Friedrichshain. On the telephone two nights earlier Paul had used all the right words to describe a thrilling weekend with the
Jungvolk
, but there had been a different story in the tone. Or had there? Maybe it was just that adolescent reticence which psychiatrists were so full of these days. He needed a proper talk with the boy, which made that weekends summons to Cracow all the more annoying. And to make matters worse, Hertha were at home that Sunday too. Paul could always go with Thomas, but . . . an away game, he thought suddenly. He could take Paul to an away game the following Sunday. A real trip. He could see no reason why Ilse would object.

And Cracow would be interesting, if nothing else. He had already booked his sleeper tickets and hotel room, and was looking forward to seeing the city for the first time. Both his agents had loved the Germanys Neighbours idea, so he thought there would be some money in it, too.

He reached the Wiesners stop, walked the short distance to their block, and climbed the stairs. Dr. Wiesner, who he hadnt seen for a couple of weeks, opened the door. He looked noticeably more care-worn, but managed a smile of welcome. I wanted to thank you for talking to Albert, he said without preamble. And Id like to ask you another favor. I feel awkward doing thisand please say no if its too difficultbut, well, I am just doing what I must. You understand?

Russell nodded. What now, he wondered.

Wiesner hesitated. He also seemed more unsure of himself, Russell noticed. And who could blame him?

Is there any way you could check on the rules for taking things out of the country? For Jews, I mean. Its just that they keep changing the rules, and if I ask what they are then theyll just assume Im trying to get around them.

Of course, Russell said. Ill let you know on Friday.

Wiesner nodded. One person I know asked about a miniature which had been in his family for a hundred years, and they simply confiscated it, he went on, as if Russell still needed convincing.

Ill let you know, Russell said again.