Page 5 of The Last Safe Place

“Guten Tag, Herr Lange,” the guard greeted him. “I’ll announce your arrival. You know the way.”

“Thank you, Herr Marbach. Have a nice day.” Decades of professional practice had taught Eberhard the value of ensuring the goodwill of ordinary people. Especially if it cost nothing more than a kind word.

Then he walked across the courtyard to the front door and down the long corridors to Dohnanyi’s office. On his first visit, the building had been a confusing labyrinth; now he knew his way around with confidence.

“Good morning, Herr Lange. Come in.” Dohnanyi stared at Eberhard intently through his round lenses before extending his hand. “May I introduce my new employee, Lieutenant Bernd Ruben. He will be taking over the management of the dossier.”

The dossier was Dohnanyi’s documentation of anti-Jewish laws, persecution, and cases of authorities exceeding their powers against Jewish citizens. Eberhard conscientiously reported to Dohnanyi every incident he learned of – even if he had doubts about the usefulness of the dossier. Who would Dohnanyi ever present it to? The higher echelons of government explicitly encouraged these outrageous actions.

Dohnanyi opened the intercom and asked his secretary to send in Lieutenant Ruben.

Striding in, Ruben made an instant impression on Eberhard: a man in his mid-thirties, with dark blond hair, kind brown eyes and a bushy moustache. Everything about him radiated sincerity and integrity. Eberhard’s sixth sense for people told him he could trust Lieutenant Ruben.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Ruben,” Eberhard greeted him, waiting for Ruben to offer his hand, rather than reaching out himself, as tradition would have dictated. But these days, people didn’t pay much attention to the old customs – and as a Jew, Eberhard was all the more reserved.

“The pleasure is all mine, Herr Lange. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Lieutenant Ruben will be your direct contact in the future,” Dohnanyi interrupted.

Eberhard signaled his understanding with a nod, though he regretted he would no longer be working with Dohnanyi. In recent years, they had not exactly become friends – their circumstances would not have allowed that – but they had nonetheless each developed a strong appreciation and respect for the other.

“Rest assured that Lieutenant Ruben will work in much the same way as I have, and will keep me informed at all times.”

Dohnanyi’s assurances were unnecessary, but they demonstrated the man’s character. Loyal to the core, he was sympathetic to the tribulations of Jews, and always willing to do the best he could within his limited powers. Not even a head of department could contravene official government instructions.

In fact, the modest help he could offer was only possible thanks to the backing of both his direct superior Major General Hans Oster and the director of the Abwehr, Admiral Canaris, who were both of the same mind as Dohnanyi.

Once Eberhard had reported the latest persecution of his Jewish clients, he bid his farewells and walked to his office near the Bendlerblock, where some clients were already waiting. Most needed help with administrative or financial matters: many no longer dared to visit government agencies themselves, or had been barred or ignored due to the star on their chest.

In the afternoon, Eberhard set off punctually for home, where Anton and Gerda arrived shortly after.

“How lovely that you could come,” Selma greeted the Seiferts.

It was not as if they led a vibrant social life: they were excluded from most activities – those that still existed during the war. Not only that: most Aryan friends had turned their backs over the years. Some because they had internalized Nazi ideology, but most out of fear. No one wanted to be denounced as a friend of Jews and run the risk of making the acquaintance of the Gestapo.

“We always love visiting you.” Anton hugged Selma and shook Eberhard’s left hand before taking a bottle of wine from his briefcase.

Eberhard examined it. “A French red. I haven’t seen anything this good in a long time. Where did you get it?”

“From the wine cellar of a client who left the country. He couldn’t pay me in cash, so he gave me two cases of wine instead.”

By law, Jewish emigrants were permitted only personal items in their luggage. Many were forced to sell their household items before departure to pay for the many costly permits and special taxes.

“Well then, let’s drink a toast!” Eberhard raised his glass. For just one evening, they would leave all their troubles behind them, and pretend everything was as it used to be before Hitler had come to power. After a few minutes, Selma disappeared into the kitchen to serve the food, and the others took a seat in the dining room.

“Have you heard from Karl and Günther?” Selma asked, after serving first their guests, then herself and Eberhard.

“I’m afraid not.” Gerda shook her head sadly. Their two adult sons had emigrated to England shortly after the war began. “We’ve heard nothing since we received the postcard from our Swedish acquaintances a year ago.”

“I’m sure they’ve both settled in well and found work. Skilled mechanics are in high demand.” Through various indirect channels, Eberhard had heard that many refugees experienced initial difficulties, particularly due to the distrust of the local population, who saw them as German enemies, not persecuted Jews. Since he didn’t want to worry Gerda, he kept the knowledge to himself. Karl and Günther would thrive; they were young, adaptable and well-educated. He, on the other hand, was far too old to start over. He didn’t know what he would do if he was forced to leave his home, and he could never leave Selma. But the deportations were more and more frequent now, and Eberhard knew they couldn’t be safe forever.

4

Knut had been looking forward to dinner with Bernd with a mixture of anticipation and terror. What if he had misunderstood Bernd’s signals and the man wasn’t interested in him at all? What if he was getting into hot water, or risking being denounced? Or if the Gestapo were waiting there, ready to arrest him?

He was on the verge of cancelling the evening a thousand times, but each time the memory of Bernd’s genuinely pleased expression held him back. He simply had to risk it.

When the time came to leave, he put on his coat and peaked cap and marched toward the cozy, homely restaurant he had chosen. He spotted Bernd from afar, coming from the other direction, looking unreasonably handsome in his Wehrmacht uniform and lieutenant’s epaulettes. A shiver trickled down Knut’s back and again he was tempted to turn on his heel and disappear. But it was too late, Bernd had already seen him and was waving.