Page 49 of The Last Safe Place

Thirty years of experience as a lawyer had taught him that clients often needed to vent their frustration before they were able to put their thoughts clearly into words. He encouraged her to tell him the whole story from the beginning. Fräulein Vogel described her close escape in such colorful detail it made a shiver run down his back. She was fortunate to have had the presence of mind to call the emergency number at the Abwehr. With frightening clarity, he realized that the same could happen to him, Selma, Johanna, or any of the other members of Operation Seven. He made a mental note to instruct the members individually on how to act, should the worst happen, to ensure the best possible chance of resolving the situation quickly.

“… and then this man at the employment office explained to me that he couldn’t issue a clearance certificate because I am indispensable,” Fräulein Vogel concluded her story in a much calmer voice.

“It’s a travesty, indeed. Let us think about what we can do.” Eberhard picked up a pencil, twirling it between his fingers.

“I haven’t had time to do that yet, I was far too angry,” declared Fräulein Vogel, as if he hadn’t experienced her fury first-hand.

“Yes, I noticed,” said Eberhard. After all, just a few minutes had passed since she’d stormed into his office like a Valkyrie, swearing like a trooper. “Now we need to find a solution together.”

Her belligerence of a moment before dissolved at once and she slumped into a miserable heap. “I can’t. I just can’t think of anything.”

“What information do we have?” Without waiting for Fräulein Vogel’s answer, Eberhard wrote in spidery handwritingwith his left hand on a notepad:War-critical work. Indispensable. Munitions factory. Employment office refuses clearance certificate on these grounds.

Re-reading his scrawled words, he had to suppress a shout of triumph, so simple was the solution. He gazed at Fräulein Vogel. “We just need to get you fired.”

“What? That’s not possible. I’m a forced laborer…” She stopped talking and frowned at Eberhard, before she nodded. “It’s a brilliant idea, Herr Lange. If I’m not engaged in war-critical work, there’s no reason to refuse me the stupid certificate. Just how do we get me fired?”

That was the crux of the matter. Eberhard picked up the pencil again, twirling it in circles. As his eyes followed the spinning pencil tip, his thoughts spun along with it. “Normally, I’d advise you to be late several times or to be slapdash in your work, but as a Jew, that’ll get you into trouble.”

“I know.” Her face was a picture of misery as she slumped even further in her chair. “I could go into hiding.”

“No, that’s too risky.” Eberhard’s mind worked at full speed as his hand continued to turn the pencil. “The factory has to fire you of its own accord, for other reasons.”

“Maybe because the Abwehr needs me more urgently?” Fräulein Vogel suggested.

“Hmm.” He hated bothering H with such minor things, since the poor man already had enough on his plate. But no matter how he turned it over in his mind, only the Abwehr had sufficient influence to obtain the dismissal of a war worker. “I’ll talk to Lieutenant Hesse, he surely will find a solution.”

“Do you really think it will work?” whispered Fräulein Vogel.

Eberhard had no idea, though he didn’t want to unsettle her any further. “Leave me to worry about that. This will all resolve itself, and soon you’ll hold the requisite certificate in your hand.”

“Thank you so much.” Fräulein Vogel stood up. “The SS gave me a terrible fright this morning. I’m more convinced than ever that I couldn’t bear being deported. No matter what they try to convince us of, something unimaginably horrifying awaits everyone who gets off the train at the end of that journey. I can feel it deep down,” she put a hand on her heart, “in here.”

“And I know with equal certainty that we will soon leave this danger behind us.” Eberhard wasn’t half as confident as he pretended. But he had no intention of betraying his fears to Fräulein Vogel.

Once she had left, he took his hat and coat, and set off to pay Lieutenant Hesse a visit.

25

Knut was sitting in a meeting with a small circle of employees who were privy to the true reasons for Operation Seven. Since his return from Switzerland, he hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to Bernd, so he was doubly pleased to see him among the participants.

Bernd was reporting on the incident with Fräulein Vogel. “It’s only thanks to her quick thinking that the SS didn’t arrest her. I was able to convince the SS officer on duty over the telephone that he was about to drag away one of our agents.”

“We need to get our agents out of the country sooner rather than later if we don’t want to risk the Gestapo torpedoing the operation. After the Operation Pastorius debacle, our organization urgently needs a success story.” Hans Oster stared around the room with a serious face, before focusing on Knut. “Lieutenant Hesse, what results have you achieved in Switzerland?”

Knut felt all eyes on him and took a deep breath before delivering his report. “Herr Steiner of the Foreign Office has proved open in principle to issuing the required visas, provided the refugees have sufficient funds to support themselves for the duration of their stay in Switzerland.”

Bernd tilted his head, looking at him. Knut had never been able to hide anything from his partner, so he wasn’t surprised when Bernd asked, “How much exactly do the Swiss want?”

“One hundred thousand dollars.” Knut gazed into horrified faces all around.

“Have they gone mad? That’s a fortune,” spluttered Emil, the first to regain his power of speech.

“Herr Steiner fears the refugees won’t be able to travel onward promptly, and in the worst case, will have to live in Switzerland for years to come,” Knut echoed the chief of the Swiss Immigration Police’s cynical calculations. “In any case he wants to avoid them being a burden on the state. In his words: ‘The boat is full. If we take in any more refugees, we risk going down with them’.”

“I can’t believe the Swiss, of all people, are saying that. Switzerland is swimming in money. A not inconsiderable part of it coming, incidentally, from German sources.” The expression on Emil’s face had hardened, and Knut wondered if personal experience lay behind it.

Another officer, whom Knut knew only in passing, spoke up. “The Abwehr used to have money in Switzerland. What happened to it?”