Page 34 of The Last Safe Place
“I can’t wait,” muttered Herr Lange, whose hatred of this charade showed clearly on his face.
“I’m glad to hear it. It’s an important part of your work as agents,” responded Robert, his voice frosty.
Michaela felt sorry for Herr Lange. If it was difficult enough for her, how hard must it be for a person over fifty to learn so many new things? But she admired him for the skill with which he had navigated their mission so far.
Herr Seifert, on the other hand, had suffered no visible injuries in the last war. On the train journey, he had told her that he suffered from a brain injury that caused paralysis in his extremities from time to time. Michaela knew of similar cases where patients sometimes fell over without warning simply because they had lost control of one of their legs, and she made a mental note to keep an eye on Herr Seifert. She smiled to herself.What a strange collection of agents we are: two war-invalids; one overenthusiastic journalist; and a doctor.
It was probably better for the Reich that they were only pretending to be agents. But they had no time to think, because Robert cut their breakfast short with the words, “Let’s go. Off to work. We have much to do.”
Leonore immediately approached Robert and engaged him in a conversation, which gave Michaela the opportunity to lag behind. She turned to Herr Seifert.
“Are you well?” she asked the visibly exhausted man.
“Well is a relative term. This is all a bit much for my old brain.”
“It’s not just you. We probably won’t need everything we’re learning here, nevertheless we should memorize every detail. It will be very useful in an emergency.”
He nodded in agreement. “You’re right of course, Heloise.”
Michaela flinched at her code name. Why did Lieutenant Hesse have to name her after that unfortunate woman?
The group spent the morning with Robert, who introduced them to the mysteries of radio transmission and photography techniques. On their way to lunch, they passed a room where documents were being forged. Several forgers were sitting at tables creating precise copies of stamps and signatures.
Taking a closer look at one of the documents, Michaela spotted a British passport. It gave her an idea. Even before she could ask why the forgers didn’t simply produce identification cards or emigration permits, her question was answered by Robert.
“Here we forge anything associated with a hostile nation. We aren’t permitted to forge documents of our allies, much less German documents. The Gestapo has sole responsibility for creating those.”
Too bad, thought Michaela.
After lunch came their scheduled session on fighting techniques. Michaela envied Grau and Mark, who were exempt, and instead rushed off to take extra classes in Morse code. Leonore, naturally, was excited to learn how to defend herself.
Michaela watched in wonder as the petite woman took on a man twice her weight and size and slammed him to ground, after being shown the move just once. When it was Michaela’s turn, she froze, thinking of the very real possibility that she would break the man’s bones. He used her hesitation and seconds later, she lay on her back, gasping for air.
“Why did you wait? He was opening up his side for your attack!” Leonore seemed aghast.
“I just…” She took the trainer’s outstretched hand, allowing him to help her up. “I’m a doctor, I don’t usually try to harm my patients.”
“Nobody here needs to know your real profession,” he said in a sharp tone.
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Michaela wanted to slap herself for the misstep.
Grueling hours of physical exertion followed until it was time for dinner, after which they were finally allowed some free time. Michaela longed to lie down on her bed and nurse her aching muscles. Her roommate though was still full of energy. “Come on, Michi, let’s go for a walk to the lake.”
“Leo, I don’t know how you can summon the energy after the day we’ve just had,” she protested.
“It’ll do you good, you’ll see. The fresh air will blow the cobwebs away and you’ll be able to think clearly again.”
“You sound like a doctor.” Michaela had to admit there was something to Leonore’s statement. Reluctantly, she got up, laced her shoes, pulled a shawl around her shoulders and said, “Alright, let’s get it over with.”
As they walked by the lake, Leonore suddenly asked, “Do you think it will work?”
“What?”
“Our emigration. As far as I know, the Gestapo hasn’t approved it yet.”
Michaela stopped. She had asked herself the same question, and with every passing day she was feeling more uneasy. Coming to the agent training center at the Quenzgut had given her new hope that things were finally moving forward. Leonore’s question struck her like a surge of cold water. “Honestly, I don’t know. Every day, I swing between hope and fear. I get up in the morning full of courage, which turns into despair over the course of the day.” She looped her arm through Leonore’s and resumed their leisurely walk. “It doesn’t help to worry about it. We can only take things one day at a time.”
“That’s not exactly my forte.”