Page 51 of The Last Safe Place
“An opera isn’t a concert,” Bernd said sternly. “You’re showing a real gap in your education there. Mozart in particular is ideal for beginners, because the music is so catchy.”
Emil, worried he might be press-ganged into joining, took Bernd’s side. “If you’ve never been to the opera, you definitely should give it a try. If it’s truly not to your taste, you can always leave in the interval.”
In a moment of devilment, Knut couldn’t resist hesitating a little more before admitting defeat. “If I don’t like it, you owe me a beer, Emil.”
Emil simply shrugged, obviously relieved that this poisoned chalice had passed him by.
“All right, let’s meet at the Deutsche Oper at a quarter to eight. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” said Bernd.
“I’ll be there. Please thank your parents on my behalf for the generous offer.” A warm feeling of anticipation pulsed through Knut’s veins.
“I have to hurry, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow at the latest to present the plan.” Emil was about to get up.
Bernd grasped the opportunity. “Wait, I’ll come with you.”
Knut remained seated for a few minutes, watching the constant coming and going in the mess, before he too got up and went to his office. He still had a lot to do and would have to hurry if he wanted to finish work in time for the opera.
That evening, he put on his dress uniform and walked to the Deutsche Oper, where he recognized Bernd’s dark blond hair from afar. His friend had also dressed smartly, looking dazzling in his gray-green uniform jacket with aiguillette and brass buttons on the epaulettes.
After shaking hands, Knut asked, “Wasn’t it a bit risky inviting Emil?”
“Not really,” Bernd grinned with mischief. “I know from a reliable source that he doesn’t like opera.”
Knut would have loved to squeeze Bernd’s hand, but that was impossible, so he asked, “Why didn’t your parents want to attend the performance?”
“My mother isn’t feeling well.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.” Knut had only seen Bernd’s parents once at a reception to which half of the Abwehr had been invited.
“She doesn’t tolerate the heat well, which is why my parents used to spend the summer in Sweden. Let’s go inside.”
Their seats were in the first row, which was a new experience for Knut. He’d been to the Deutsche Oper many times before, although usually in the standing area in the balcony. His father had passed on a love of culture to him. Before he retired, he’d been a teacher and then a school principal, but with four children, his salary hadn’t stretched to luxuries. Bernd, on the other hand, came from a family of wealthy industrialists.
Just like Bernd, Knut also had a difficult relationship with his parents, who completely toed Hitler’s line, spurred on by his older brother Joseph, who had a prestigious career in the SS, and had recently been promoted to Sturmbannführer. Even Carsta, his youngest sister, was a loyal Nazi supporter who’d proudly birthed eight children for the Führer.
Just Edith had become the black sheep of the family. Edith of all people, who’d once been their darling for marrying into the Falkenstein family, one of the richest families in Germany. Over the course of the 1930s, the entire family, with the exception of Knut, had dropped her like a hot potato as her husband Julius’s Jewish ancestry made him intolerable to the family.
“What are you thinking about?” Bernd interrupted his thoughts.
“My family. Edith in particular.”
“Have you heard from her?” Honest interest resonated in Bernd’s voice as they took their seats and were handed a program.
“Not after I warned her about the raid last month.” Knut pretended to study the program. “I’m so worried about her.”
“You couldn’t involve the two of them in the operation, you know that.” Bernd took the program from him, surreptitiously stroking the back of his hand as he did so. It was such a brief touch, yet Knut felt comforted.
“I still feel guilty.”
“I understand that. But you have to look ahead. We can’t save everyone,” Bernd whispered.
“Not even my own sister?”
At that moment, the auditorium doors were closed and silence descended over the audience in anticipation of the grandiose music to come.
Until the opera began, Knut continued to brood. Operation Seven had turned out to be much more complicated than anyone had foreseen, presenting more problems at every turn. He gave a silent sigh, feeling inadequate.
Under the cover of darkness, Bernd touched his hand, whispering, “We’ll get them out, you just wait and see.”