Page 12 of The Last Safe Place

“It tastes exquisite, you’ll see.” Bernd twirled the ruby red liquid in the elegant wine glass.

For a fleeting moment, Knut felt inferior. He came from a middle-class family, his father a retired elementary school director, whereas Bernd’s family belonged to the top ten thousand in Berlin.

Bernd seemed to have noticed, because he set the glass down on the table. “I love you the way you are. There’s nothing wrong with not being a connoisseur of wines. I’d rather my family shared my political opinions, even if that meant we’d be dirt poor.”

Warmth spread through Knut’s heart. “I still cannot believe that I found you. You’re such a wonderful man.”

“As are you.” Bernd stroked his hand over Knut’s cheek and kissed him intensely, before he took up his glass again. “We wanted to brainstorm on ways to resist the regime.”

“Right, you distracted me.” Knut smiled happily. “You were going to tell me about Admiral Canaris’ orders to deem certain Jews as essential workers.”

“Unfortunately it’s a measure that can only be used occasionally, or the Gestapo will become suspicious.”

“We must find a way to spirit away Jews to a safe country.” Knut’s enthusiasm for the just cause took over. “We could equip them with false papers.”

Bernd shook his head. “That’s way too risky. If the Gestapo ever finds out that the Abwehr is issuing false papers, they’ll take over the entire organization.”

“Right.” Knut racked his brain. Bernd was right. They couldn’t risk the entire operation going up in flames. That would cause so much more damage. “Then we’ll do it on a personal level. We can arrange for safe hiding places, perhaps train tickets, anything.”

“I guess that’s a good start. During my next meeting with Eberhard Lange, I’ll put my feelers out. He must know many people in dire need,” Bernd offered.

“That’s a fantastic idea. Even if we can only save one single person, I’m determined to do everything in my power.”

“Let’s toast to our mission,” Bernd suggested. They raised their glasses and Knut said, “To saving as many lives as we can!”

8

BERLIN, EARLY 1942

Eberhard was hanging up the phone when the doorbell rang. His secretary had already gone home, so he got up to open the door himself.

“Anton, what are you doing here?”

His old friend was red in the face and snorting so violently he couldn’t utter a word.

“You’d best come in. Would you like a coffee?”

Anton nodded, breathing heavily.

After pouring two cups of coffee from the Thermos, Eberhard asked, “What is bothering you so much that you’ve come all this way to see me?”

“This.” Anton handed him a letter. It was a demand from the Gestapo to make an inventory of his valuables.

“Oh sh… oot,” Eberhard exclaimed. A statement of assets was usually the first sign of imminent deportation.

“That’s exactly what I said.” Anton slumped in his chair, blowing on the lukewarm coffee.

“I’ll go to Lieutenant Ruben right away to ask whether the Abwehr can help.” It wouldn’t be the first time Hans von Dohnanyi’s department had held a protective hand over a Jewdestined for deportation. Eberhard put down his cup and strode across the office, taking his hat and coat from the coat rack.

Anton watched him, perplexed. “Right now? It’s after 5 p.m.”

“I think haste is in order. If I don’t find anyone at the Bendlerblock, I can return tomorrow morning. Will you pass me my briefcase, please?”

Anton still wasn’t quite himself, but at least he had the presence of mind to slip the inventory demand into the briefcase. “In case you need this. I know what it says.”

“Courage, old friend. We’ll work it out somehow.” As he was leaving, Eberhard added, “When you leave, lock the door and put the key under the doormat.”

“Of course. Thank you.”