Zoo Station (25 page)

He stopped outside the two-storey concrete building which bore the signpost
KOMMANDANTURA
, took one last look at the apparent roll-call, and headed for the door. On either side of the entrance two large pots held the withered remains of what might have been geraniums.

Inside, a middle-aged Gestapo officer looked up from his desk, wordlessly extended a hand for Russells documentation, and gestured him to a chair. As the officer examined the pass and accompanying letter he repeatedly ran his right hand through his thinning hair, as if intent on wearing out what little remained. Picking up the phone with that hand, he switched to using the other on his head. You are needed here, he told someone, and hung up.

A minute later the someonea younger man with a remarkably unintelligent facearrived. Hauptscharfuhrer Grundel will take you to your meeting, the adjutant announced.

Russell stood up. This way, the Hauptscharfuhrer barked, leading him through a door, down a short corridor, and out through another door into the open air. A short walk down a gravel path brought them to another, larger two-storey building, and a small windowless room on the ground floor. Several chairs and a table were arranged around the walls, leaving the center of the room empty. The floor had a thin covering of sawdust.

Why are you so interested in this Jew? the Hauptscharfuhrer asked, sounding almost bewildered beneath the bluster.

He helped a friend of mineyears ago, Russell said shortly.

The Hauptscharfuhrer thought about that, and shook his head. Wait here, he said.

Russell waited, pacing to and fro across the room. There was a dark residue in the center of the floor which could have been dried blood. He squatted on his haunches for a better look, but admitted to himself that he didnt really know what dried blood looked like. It was the sort of thing you needed to know in Hitlers realm, he thought. If the Eskimos had fifty words for snow, the Nazis probably had fifty for dried blood.

The minutes stretched out. At one point a frenzied burst of barking erupted in the distance, and died out with equal abruptness. Almost twenty minutes had gone by when the door opened and Felix Wiesner was pushed inside, the Hauptscharfuhrer close behind him. Russell had expected cuts and bruises, and there were lots of them: One of Wiesners eyes was swollen shut, there were dark bruises on his neck, throat, and cheeks, and there was blood in his hair. But that was just the superficial damage. His right hand was encased in a bloody bandage, concealing God knew what injuries, and the doctor was hunched over, apparently unable to walk upright. He looked, Russell thought, like a man whod just been kicked in the genitals. Many, many times.

He was obviously surprised to see someone he knew. Come, Russell said, helping Wiesner into a chair and feeling the pain it cost him.

The Hauptscharfuhrer, who had taken a chair by the door, watched with contempt.

Can we speak in private? Russell asked, knowing what the answer would be.

No. This bastard has forfeited any right to privacy. You have ten minutes, he added, looking at his watch.

Russell turned to Wiesner. Your wife wrote you a letter, but they confiscated it. She told me to read it in case that happened. She wrote that she and the children love you and are dreaming of the day when you come home.

Wiesner sighed, then made a visible effort to gather himself. Thank you, he said quietly, moving his mouth with obvious difficulty. Why are you here? he asked, as if there had to be more.

To help, if I can, Russell said. You know what they accuse you of?

Yes.

Did you see this girl?

Wiesner shifted his body in a vain search for comfort. She came to the clinic. Wanted an abortion. Abused me when I said no.

You dont know who gave her the abortion?

No. But look, he said, speaking slowly, making sure the words came out right, that doesnt matter. Thats over. We are all guilty here. He reached out his good hand and laid it on Russells arm. You must tell my wife to go if she can. To save the girls. And Albert if hes willing to be saved. And herself. She mustnt count on my getting out of here. In fact, she must act as if I was already dead. Do you understand? Can you tell her that? Can you make her believe it?

I can tell her.

She knows where my stamp collectionhe used the English phraseis. It would be worth a lot to Stanley Gibbons. And I would be greatly in your debt.

No you wouldnt, Russell said, glancing across at the Hauptscharfuhrer, who was looking at his watch.

I am ashamed to say it, Wiesner continued, still struggling with every word, but I thought Albert was exaggerating about this placethat he had been less than a
mensch
. Tell him I am sorry, that now I know.

One minute, the Hauptscharfuhrer said.

Dont tell my wife how bad it is, Wiesner said. Tell her Im all right. Theres nothing she can do.

Russell looked at him. I feel like I want to apologize he said.

Why? You have done nothing.

Russell grimaced. Maybe thats why. I dont know if theres anything I can do to help you, but Ill move heaven and earth to get your family out. I promise you that.

Wiesner nodded, as if that were a deal worth having. Thank you, he whispered as the Hauptscharfuhrer got to his feet.

Time, the man shouted with evident satisfaction. You wait here, he told Russell, shoving Wiesner in the direction of the door. Russell watched the doctor shuffle painfully out, arms folded against the wind, the Hauptscharfuhrer demanding greater speed. The door slammed shut behind them.

Russell sat and waited, staring numbly into space, until the Hauptscharfuhrer returned. Back at the
Kommandantura
he insisted on asking the Gestapo officer whether the doctors account of events had been checked out. The man hesitated, as if wondering whether the offer of an answer could be justified, and decided it could. Our interrogations are not yet complete, he said dismissively.

You mean hes not dead yet, Russell said.

The Gestapo man gave him a thin smile. What happens here is no concern of foreigners, he said.

Several retorts sprang to mind, but silence seemed wiser. I can leave? he asked.

You can leave.

Russell walked outside to the car. The prisoners were still lined up in the distance, the icy wind still blowing. He reversed the car, drove back to the gates, and waited for them to be opened. As he motored out past the gatehouse he saw the crumpled ball of Eva Wiesners letter lying where the wind had blown it, up against the concrete wall. A kilometer or so down the access road he pulled to a stop, slumped forward with his head against the wheel, and let the waves of rage wash over him.

A LITTLE OVER AN HOUR
later he was pulling up outside the Wiesners apartment block in Friedrichshain. He sat in the car for a while, reluctant to go up, as if bringing the bad news would make it real. Many of the people walking by looked Jewish, and most of them looked as if theyd seen better times. Did the faces look haunted, or was he just thinking that they should? Could they see the fists coming? The coshes, the belts, the whips?

Russell wearily climbed the stairs and knocked on the familiar door. It opened immediately, as if Frau Wiesner had been waiting behind it. Hes all right, Russell said, the lie sour on his tongue.

The girls faces filled with hope, but Frau Wiesner searched his face, and saw a different truth. They are not treating him badly? she asked, almost incredulously.

Not too badly, Russell said, glancing pointedly at the girls.

Her face sank with the knowledge that he needed to talk to her alone, but she managed a smile as she shooed the girls back into the other room. Tell me how bad it is, she asked, once the door had closed behind them.

Hes been beaten. But not too badly, Russell lied. He has cuts and bruises. What youd expect from those animals.

God save us, she said, her legs buckling.

Russell helped her into a seat, and steeled himself to pass on her husbands words. He gave me a message for you, he began. You must leave the country if you can, you and the children. He hopes he will be released eventually, but for the momentfor the moment, he emphasizedhe says you must act as if he were dead.

He expected tears, but she gave him a look full of defiance. The children, yes, she said. But I will not go.

The children will need you, Russell said. And your husband will not be coming back, he thought.

They will be all right, she said firmly, as if trying to convince herself. In a decent country, they will be all right. Albert is old enough to look after the girls.

Where is Albert?

Out somewhere. But I will make sure that he looks after the girls.

Your husband sent him a message too, Russell said. He says he understands now what Albert must have been through in the camp. He wants Albert to know hes sorry for doubting him.

Oh, God, she said, burying her face in her hands.

Russell pulled her to him, feeling her silent, racking sobs against his shoulder. One other thing, he said when she was finally still. I am going to England tomorrow. For a few days, taking Effis sister to see an English doctor. Your husband asked if I could get his stamps out of Germany, and this seems like an ideal opportunity. If you agree, I can put them in a safety deposit box in London, and leave the key with my agent. Hes trustworthy.

You are sure?

That hes trustworthy? Yes. That I can get them past customs? Not completely, but Im traveling with the wife of a Nazi and two children. It seems like the best chance were likely to get.

She got up and disappeared into the other room, returning a few moments later with a large, soft-covered book called
Achievements of the Third Reich: The First Five Years
. COLLECT ALL FIFTY FULL-COLOR STICKERS! a splash in the corner announced, and Felix Wiesner obviously had. Stickers displaying busy factories, the Peoples car, Strength through Joy cruise ships and 47 other bounties of Hitlers reign were neatly affixed to their appropriate squares.

The pictures are only stuck around the edges, she explained. Theres a stamp behind each one.

EFFI SEEMED HAPPY ENOUGH
to see him, but was, to most intents and purposes, still on the film-set. Russell could have shocked her out of her absorption with an account of his visit to Sachsenhausen, but there didnt seem any point. He gave her a sanitized version of the visit, more sanitized indeed than the one hed given Frau Wiesner. They made love that night in a friendly, somewhat desultory fashion, rather in the way, Russell imagined, that Mother made love to her over-sensitive SA husband.

The dawn was only breaking over the mist-shrouded Havelsee location when he dropped her off, and he arrived outside the British Embassy almost an hour before it opened. The line of Jews seeking visas was already stretching around the corner into Pariserplatz.

Coffee and hot rolls in the Cafe Kranzler restored his body, but the mornings
Beobachter
further sunk his spirits. An editorial congratulated the British on their obvious willingness to give up their Empiresarcasm was the
highest
form of wit in Goebbelslandbefore condemning that same willingness as a clear sign of weakness and decadence. The British had succumbed to
humanitatsduselei
, humanitarian nonsense. This was not something the Reich would ever countenance.

The line of people eager to escape Hitlers paradise was receding around another corner when Russell got back to the Embassy. Martin Unsworth was in a meeting, and had nothing good to tell him when he eventually came out of it. Someone had stuck a to be refused note on Frau Wiesners file, but he didnt know when or why. He was still working on it but, as Russell could see, they were pretty busy. Russells graphic account of his visit to Sachsenhausen elicited sympathy but little else. He had telegraphed the Washington Embassy with a message for Conway, Unsworth said, but had not had a reply. For all he knew, Conway was taking a few days holiday in New York. And in any case, he didnt see what Conway or anyone else could do about one Jew in a concentration camp, no matter how innocent he was, or how badly he was being treated.

More resigned than raging, Russell left without hitting the banister and drove home to Neuenburgerstrasse. Frau Heideggers door was open, his Sudeten neighbor sitting helplessly in the chair she reserved for the sacrificial coffee-drinker. Russell flashed him a sympathetic smile and ran upstairs to pack the larger of his two worn-out suitcases with three changes of clothes, a toothbrush, and several books. The latter included
Achievements of the Third Reich
and the 1937 Coronation edition of the
A1 Guide and Atlas of London
, which hed discovered the previous year in a secondhand bookshop on the Kudamm. Miniatures of their majesties sat side by side over a scrolled Long May They Reign.

The aerodrome at Tempelhof Field was on the other side of the Kreuzberg, about three kilometers away. As they lived fairly close together, Jens had agreed to pick up Paul for a noon arrival at the aerodrome, and Russell arrived with some twenty minutes to spare. The parking lot was small, but the quality of carshis Hanomag exceptedmade up for the lack of quantity. Flying was not for the poor.

The others arrived five minutes later, Paul with a
Jungvolk
rucksack on his back, his face a study in repressed excitement. The fur-coated Zarah looked anxious, Lothar like a normal four-year-old. Jens ushered them into the one-storey terminal building, clearly intent on smoothing their path. As Zarah disappeared in the direction of the ladies room, he took Russell aside.

It went well yesterday? he asked.

Russell nodded.

And you understand that you must not talk or write about your visit?

Russell nodded again.

For everyones sake, Jens added pointedly.

Look! Paul called out from a window. Its our aeroplane.

Russell joined him.

Its a Ju 52/3m, Paul said knowledgeably, pointing at the plane being fueled out on the tarmac. It has a cruising ceiling of 6,000 meters. It can go 264 kilometers an hour.